


Flawed Enough

by Lindira



Series: Ma'nehn & Amatus [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Depression, Disability, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Post-Trespasser, Romance, Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-07-12 15:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7111654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindira/pseuds/Lindira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Exalted Council, Aeric Lavellan copes with the loss of his arm and the Inquisition, and worries about his future with Dorian. Both are determined to keep the relationship going despite the distance between them, but a long-distance relationship proves harder when there's no plan to be together in the near future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to "The Lift Away" and "Fearful Thoughts". If you haven't read those stories, it's highly recommended that you do before reading this one, since they will be referenced often. Trespasser DLC spoilers ahead.
> 
> This is a post-Trespasser DLC fic set immediately after the Exalted Council. As much as "The Lift Away" was more Dorian's story than it was Aeric's, this story is the reverse, focusing on Aeric more than upon Dorian.

Aeric sat up in bed in the early morning hours, the sun just peeking over the horizon. It had been hard for him to sleep, an itch in his left arm keeping him awake for long stretches at a time. He wanted to scratch it, to reach the offending spot on his forearm. But it wasn't there, an empty space where it used to be. And so it itched.

He gazed blearily around his quarters, taking inventory of it. There were too many things. Books and pots and papers and keepsakes. He'd have to get rid of some of them. As a Dalish, he had always been told to pack lightly. Do not possess more than you can carry.

Aeric never was a very good Dalish.

It had been over three years since he left his clan with Pai. In some ways, it was hard to believe that he had been gone so long. Harder still to believe that Pai had been gone for years now. Sometimes, it felt like she had died only a few days ago. Until he realized he couldn't remember what her voice sounded like, or why she so loved the color yellow.

Now, even though a visit to his clan was long overdue, Aeric found himself dreading it. His departure would be weeks away, after ample time to close any last Inquisition business. And yet, he hated to think what it would be like, returning without his sister. She had often been the only person who made living with the clan worthwhile. And what would his parents say? Aeric wasn't certain he could face them, after failing to protect Pai as he had always sworn to do.

" _Amatus?_ "

Aeric looked over at Dorian, who was curled close to him with his head on the pillow. The blankets were bundled around him, leaving only a corner covering Aeric's middle.

"Something wrong?" Dorian asked, rubbing at his eyes with one fist.

"Not really," Aeric replied with a little shake of his head. "Thinking about all the packing I'll have to do."

Dorian sat up and yawned before putting his arms around Aeric's waist and pulling him close. "I'm sorry I have to be away again," Dorian murmured with a sigh. "Damned Tevinter rites and by-laws. I'd much rather be here to help you."

"I'll manage," Aeric said, settling into Dorian's arms. They had only just returned from the Winter Palace two days ago, and reunited for just over a week. Not that they had been able to spend much time together, with all that had happened. Aeric still wasn't even used to having Dorian around, and he was leaving again in a few short days. "There are plenty of people to help me get by and pack my things."

"Yes, but that's hardly the point, is it?"

"I suppose not." Aeric gazed around the room once more, his eyes falling on his lute. The sight of it made his heart heavy. Even though the lute itself wasn't anything special - just something he had requested from the quartermaster - its music had gotten him through some difficult times, when he missed Pai or Dorian so much he felt he might go mad. " _Ma'nehn?_ "

"Yes?"

Aeric glanced over his shoulder at Dorian. "I want you to have my lute."

"Your lute?" Dorian repeated, looking confused. "But won't you want to…" He trailed off, glancing down at Aeric's left arm. "Oh." He shook his head ruefully. "I keep forgetting. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Aeric replied. "I do too." He paused. "So, will you take it? It's a fine instrument. I'd hate for it to go to waste."

Dorian nodded, his eyes drooping. Aeric hated seeing Dorian look at him with such sadness. "Yes, I'll bring it with me to Tevinter. It will remind me of you." He pressed a kiss to Aeric's cheek. "Not that I need reminding." He cocked his head to one side, frowning. "Would you like something of mine in exchange? In case you're overcome with desire for my presence?"

"Every moment, then?" Aeric sighed.

" _Amatus…_ "

Aeric shook his head. "It's fine, Dorian. I have this." He pressed a hand against his chest, over the locket that hung on a chain around his neck. Frowning thoughtfully, he added, "Though, if you could draw me some self-portraits? I've no idea when I'll see you next…"

Dorian's face drooped even further, and Aeric regretted the words immediately. "You'll have them. I've been meaning to draw some of you as well. The portraits I have of you are beginning to fade." Aeric felt Dorian's arms tighten around him, light kisses pressed against his temple as they sat in silence for a moment. Dorian pulled him close, Aeric's legs draped comfortably over Dorian's lap. "I know my departure is sudden. Terrible timing, really, what with your recent… disarmament."

Despite himself, Aeric gave a thin laugh. "Are you speaking of me or the Inquisition?"

Dorian smirked. "A little of both, perhaps."

"You used that pun last week, by the way."

"Ah, I should keep better track of them," Dorian said, his smile turning sad again. "So few decent jokes one can make about amputation." After a pause, his eyes brightened. "Listen, we had a long visit planned, but there's no reason we can't reschedule it. You're thinking of going home to your clan after you've tied up all the loose ends here, yes?" At Aeric's nod, Dorian smiled. "Excellent! We'll have that vacation you promised. Allow me to return to Tevinter for a few weeks to secure my inheritance and do some upkeep with the Lucerni. Then I'll meet you halfway, at Kirkwall. We can travel together, like old times. And then onward to Wycome. How about it?"

Aeric raised an eyebrow at him. "You'd meet my parents?"

"Might as well," Dorian replied, giving a wobbly laugh. "My fool heart seems set on you, _amatus_. After three years, a visit seems overdue." He let out a long breath. "Preferably it would go better than the time you met my father."

"Hopefully," Aeric agreed. The thought of Dorian meeting his parents made him nervous as well. Though Ma and Da claimed to be in full support of his relationship with Dorian, Aeric was almost certain that knowing he was with a human and seeing him actually with that human were two different things. This was not to mention the reactions of the Keeper and the rest of the clan. Clan Lavellan had been living closely with the humans of Wycome for some time now, but Dorian was from Tevinter. Bad blood between the elves and Tevinter ran deeply.

Aeric put the thought out of his mind. The Inquisition had saved Clan Lavellan, and all of Thedas. If he wanted to bring his love home, they would have to deal with it on their own. "How long would you stay?" he asked Dorian.

"I was planning on being here for over a month," Dorian replied thoughtfully. "I don't see why I wouldn't be able to stay that long with your clan. Provided they don't give me the proverbial boot outright. And anyway, that means we can spend your nameday together."

A smile crossed Aeric's face, a lightness in his chest for the first time since before the Exalted Council. "I get to have you for over a month? I can't think of a better present."

Dorian returned Aeric's smile with a soft one of his own. Aeric's heart began to thump faster in his chest. How he loved the way Dorian smiled at him, with affection shining in his eyes. "You'll have it, then," Dorian said, pressing more light kisses along Aeric's shoulder. He paused before reaching Aeric's neck. " _Amatus?_ "

"Hmm?"

"Are you certain you want to go back to your clan after you've wrapped things up here?" Dorian asked in a low tone, his arms tightening even more around Aeric, as if to protect him from some invisible threat. "For more than a visit, that is. Whenever you've spoken about your clan in the past, it never sounded like you were happy with them."

"I wasn't." For a moment, Aeric recalled all the times throughout his life that he sat by his family's fire, reading alone. Those times blended together, each instance bleeding into the next like watercolors. Only the books and the seasons were different: the summer he fell in love with Ibis' _Chronicles of the Blight_ , the autumn he read _The Tale of the Champion_ by a certain Varric Tethras,the winter he spent reading Genitivi's collected works on Ferelden history. But the jeers? The muttering about the strange, quiet, and angry-looking craftsman's son? Or, more often, the way the eyes of his clanspeople passed over him, as if he were invisible or a mere piece of furniture? All those moments blended together because they were ever-present. Always the same.

But he couldn't tell Dorian that.

Seeming to recognize that no words were going to come, Dorian opened his mouth to speak again. "If you will be unhappy, then why go back? Varric has offered you an estate in Kirkwall, hasn't he? Kirkwall is perhaps one of the shittier cities I've visited, but at least you will be amongst friends. Varric and Hawke live there. He could introduce you to those friends of his he keeps talking about. I believe there's even another displaced Dalish amongst his gang of misfits."

Aeric shrugged a little. "Maybe if I get tired of my clan. For now, my parents will be happy to have me around. And I was thinking it might be good for my rehabilitation. My mother can help me get used to fighting one-handed. My father could probably help me figure out how to cook one-handed as well." He tried to sound hopeful, for Dorian's sake. Yet a sense of dread had taken hold of his heart, making him feel heavy and tired. The more he thought about all the skills he had to relearn, all the tiny tasks he could no longer do on his own, the more overwhelmed he began to feel. Yet despite his desire not to worry Dorian, Aeric sighed, turning so he could see Dorian's face. "Though, I don't suppose you've changed your mind about letting me come to Tevinter with you?"

Dorian's shoulders sagged. "I'm afraid not. I told you, it's simply too dangerous. I'm sorry, Aeric."

"I thought not," Aeric said softly, turning away again and settling back into Dorian's arms. That niggling anxiety was back again, that voice in his head that told him the two of them might never live together. Aeric tried to shove it away. It was only temporary. It had to be. "Wycome it is, then."

ooo

"Look, Viney!" Sera was pointing to a picture she had drawn in the margins of Dagna's schematics for Aeric's new arm. The shape was crude and decidedly phallic. "Right now, you've got fewer fingers, and that's no good. For… y'know… things. _Places_. So I thought, if we're makin' you a new arm, might as well add things for fun, yeah? Make Mister Tevinter's whiskers quiver?"

"I'm standing right next to you, Sera!" Dorian sputtered, his face nearly purple beneath his scowl.

"I know," Sera said, grinning up at him wickedly. "Ha, doesn't take much, does it? Already quiverin' and everythin'!"

Aeric tried to smile up at them, but his heart was not in it. Before the Exalted Council, he would have laughed. His love beside him? His surrogate sister making lewd jokes as always? Why shouldn't his heart be glad? Instead, he gave up the attempt at smiling, directing his usual scowl toward his stump, encased in plaster. Dagna fussed with the hardened mold, carefully trying to free him from it without breaking it.

Dorian snatched the schematics away from Sera and examined them, hiding the redness of his face behind the paper. "The force magic runes are quite ingenious, Dagna," he said appreciatively. "It should imbue the arm with the ability to move, certainly. How are you going to have Aeric manipulate it? He has no magic himself, after all."

"That's the fun part!" Dagna answered without looking up from her work, though her eyes danced with excitement. "I'll have to experiment, but I'm thinking another set of runes? Maybe set them into the part of the socket that touches his skin? That way, the signal to move his arm comes from him like it did with his real arm. Spirit magic runes, maybe? Enchant it right, and both sets of runes should talk to each other and work together. I think. Hopefully." She paused and looked up at Dorian with a sheepish smile on her face. "Did I mention the part where this is an experiment?"

Sera draped herself heavily over Dagna's shoulders, still grinning. "Widdle will get it right!" she proclaimed, planting a wet-sounding kiss on the dwarf's cheek. "She's brilliant! Proper clever! Like you, Dorian, but not a prissy nob."

Dorian chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment, thank you. It took a great deal of education and refinement to become this 'prissy nob' you see before you." He paused then looked down at Aeric. "Everything all right, _amatus_? You've been quiet. I daresay more than usual."

Aeric shrugged, having been only half-listening. Dorian was leaving in just over a day. And though that was bad enough, that wasn't what he was thinking about. "I tried baking this morning."

Dorian frowned then knelt beside Aeric's chair. He always could tell when Aeric was upset. "What happened?" Dorian asked, his hand on Aeric's.

Biting his lip for a moment, Aeric shook his head. "It's foolish to be mad about it. The… The bowl. It spun when I tried to stir the batter. I tried to hold it steady with… with whatever this is." He nodded towards his encased stump. "The bowl toppled over. Everything spilled out."

Dorian leaned over and kissed him on his cheek. "You'll figure it out. It might take time, but you will."

Aeric shrugged again. "It took over half an hour to get dressed this morning."

" _Amatus_ …" The pained expression that Aeric so hated was on Dorian's face again. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You're leaving the day after tomorrow," Aeric replied. His voice was tight, strained. "I won't have you to help me, and I won't make some servant do it for me every morning. Might as well practice."

Dorian swallowed and looked away, his hand tightening around Aeric's.

"Free!" Dagna said brightly, and the plaster broke in half down the line she had scored on each side. "Don't you worry, Inquisitor. I'll have this new arm of yours whipped up in a jiffy. Well, half a jiffy. Two jiffies? Which means slower than a jiffy?" She pursed her lips to one side as she considered. "Anyway, we should have a prototype ready for fitting before you leave for Kirkwall."

As Aeric brushed the leftover bits of plaster from his arm, Sera piped up. "Yeah!" Her voice was jovial, but her lower lip wobbled. "Widdle's gonna make sure it's good as new. Better than."

Dorian looked from Dagna to Sera. "Would you ladies give us a moment?"

"Oh, sure!" Dagna said, her customary smile fading. She turned to Sera. "Come on, sweet bee. You were gonna show me those new flasks you concocted."

Sera hesitated before leaving Aeric's side. "Courtyard if you need me, Viney," she said, ruffling his hair a little before darting away with Dagna.

Aeric watched them go, not liking the awkward tension that he had created in the Undercroft, still lingering between him and Dorian.

"Are you angry with me, then?" Dorian asked gently.

Aeric turned back to him and looked down at their joined hands. "A little," he admitted. It wasn't fair to Dorian. It wasn't his fault he had to leave so soon. And even though Aeric knew this, every time he thought about Dorian leaving, his emotions burned inside of him.

With a frown, Dorian paused for a moment before speaking again. "I could try to stay a day or two longer."

"You already postponed your departure long enough," Aeric said, shaking his head. If Dorian didn't leave now, he might jeopardize the claim on his inheritance. "You have to go."

"But you're still angry with me for leaving?"

"Emotions are illogical that way." Dorian opened his mouth to speak, but Aeric shook his head again. "It's not even about you leaving, really. I'm just… frustrated. About everything."

Dorian rose from his knees a little, pulling Aeric closer to embrace him. "You have every right to be. And given time-"

"That's always it!" Aeric snapped, unable to stop himself. He pushed against Dorian until the mage released him. "I'll learn to get by one-handed. In time. I'll get to see you for more than a visit. In time. I'll finally get to live with you. In time. But no one can tell me when!"

His expression hurt, Dorian stared at him with pinched eyes for a long while. "I don't know what you want me to say, Aeric."

Aeric got to his feet and awkwardly pulled on his shirt over his sleeveless tunic. He left it open at the front, not bothering to try to do the clasps. "I don't know either. I… I need to take a walk." And without daring to look back at Dorian, at the pain he knew would be upon his face, Aeric left the Undercroft, climbing the many stairs with a hard lump stuck in his throat.

He was halfway to the kitchens before he realized it would be useless to go.

ooo

Though Aeric was still not fully recuperated from his ordeal at the Exalted Council, he insisted on accompanying Dorian to see him off. Instead of sailing out from Val Royeaux as he usually did, Dorian opted to travel out of Jader so he could extend his stay at Skyhold for as long as possible. The journey north to the town at the border of Orlais and Ferelden took only the better part of one day.

Jader was not the glittering jewel of a city Val Royeaux was. So far removed from the pomp and self-importance of the Game, Jader was surprisingly rustic, with thatched roofs on the stone houses that lined the streets in neat rows. There were more fishermen than frilly nobility, men and women alike chewing tobacco or smoking from long pipes. At the far end of the town lay the docks, full of small fishing vessels and only a few large ships that would survive the open sea. Aeric's heart felt heavy as they approached the pier. _It's only a month_ , he told himself. They had been separated for far longer than that before.

Somehow, the thought didn't make him feel any better.

"We made good time, but it appears the ship's captain is eager to be away," Josephine said as she came back from speaking to a grizzled middle-aged man standing beside the ship. She had gone with them to keep Aeric company on the trip back to Skyhold. Aeric suspected it was also to make sure nothing happened to him along the way. "He says that there's a storm on its way from the west. He would like to leave soon to avoid rough waters."

"Ugh." Relyne wrinkled her nose as she passed them, carrying Dorian's bags. "The calmer the better. This one vomits at every given opportunity when out on the water."

Dorian gave a soft groan. "I'm getting sick just thinking of it, actually."

Josephine picked up one of Dorian's lighter bags and started to follow Relyne. "We will leave you two to say your goodbyes."

Aeric watched her go with a sigh. He had hoped to spend a little more time with Dorian here in Jader, at least for a few hours.

"It will be all right, _amatus_ ," Dorian said with a forced brightness. "I'll be seeing you in a few weeks. I'll hardly be home at all, really. Just long enough to sign some documents and attend a service for my father." He rolled his eyes. "They had the funeral already, of course. Can't have my father decaying for weeks on end while I make my way back north. But my mother insisted on another service, for me. Appearances, you see."

Aeric only nodded, still feeling numb and heavy. He hated this feeling. When Dorian had left the few times before, he was sad of course, but it was a lighter feeling. More hopeful. _It won't be long_ , he thought. _Stop moping._

Dorian frowned at him, squeezing his hand. "What's troubling you? I'll meet you in Kirkwall soon. The month or so we will be apart should be nothing at all to us. It's not seven months like last time. Or nearly a year, thank the Maker."

"I don't know what's wrong," Aeric replied truthfully. "It feels… odd. Maybe it's only because we didn't get much time together this time around."

"That must be it." Dorian lifted a hand to caress Aeric's cheek, tracing the _vallaslin_ there. "But rest assured that we will have plenty of time upon my return, yes? You'll be sick of me by the time I head back to Tevinter."

"Never." Aeric tried to smile, but he could feel that it didn't touch his face.

"There's a good man." Dorian pulled him into a rough embrace, tight around his upper arms.

Aeric unfastened a pouch from his belt and held it out to Dorian.

Dorian smiled before he even opened it. "Ginger root?"

Aeric gave a nod, and this time, the smile touched his eyes, if nothing else.

"This is becoming a regular going away present, isn't it?" Dorian said, peeking inside the pouch at the grayish brown root.

"I keep waiting for a day when it won't be," Aeric replied before he could stop himself.

When Dorian winced, Aeric felt his stomach lurch and he regretted his words immediately. " _Amatus…_ "

Aeric shook his head. "I'm sorry. Merely feeling melancholy."

"Don't apologize." Dorian took Aeric's face in both hands, gently cupping it in his palms. "Maker knows you have been through too much these past couple of weeks. It's only natural." He kissed Aeric, long and hard and trembling. "I'll speak to you through the crystal every night, yes? Right before you sleep. Do you remember the words to activate it?"

" _Vox. Sonus._ "

Dorian gave a little smile. "Precisely. We'll be together again in no time at all. And when we are, I'll make certain you're deliriously happy. I swear it."

With a sharp tug, Aeric pulled him into another embrace. It wasn't the same, with only one good arm and half of another. " _Na viras'an, emma sulahn'nehn vir'an,_ " Aeric said softly. The first time he had said it was at the gate at Skyhold, when Dorian first left for Tevinter. It was an old farewell between them now, said every time they had to be apart. _Where you go, my happiness goes_. Aeric felt keenly that it was truer now than it ever had been.

Dorian's face crumpled just before he kissed Aeric again. His eyes were too bright when he finally pulled away. "I hope you can be happy when I'm not around as well." He sighed. "…I love you, Aeric. Be well."

"I love you, Dorian." How could he feel so numb while his heart hurt so sharply?

Dorian took a step away, then another, their hands remaining linked as long as the distance would allow. He stopped at the gangplank, turning to wave before following Relyne onto the ship. Aeric stood and watched the ship release its moorings, barely registering Josephine's presence at his side or her hand upon his shoulder. Close to the rear of the ship, Dorian took a place by the railing, smiling sadly across the water, waving once more. Aeric raised his hand to wave back, a lump forming in his throat _. Come back_ , he pleaded silently _. I need you here_.

He expected tears to come. He felt as if he should be crying. Why wasn't he?

"Inquisitor," Josephine said, her voice tentative and gentle. "Would you like to have a look around the town for a while? We should at least have something to eat. The food here is perhaps more Fereldan than Orlesian, I'm afraid, but I am certain we can find something serviceable."

Aeric nodded, his eyes still fixed on the small point that was Dorian standing on the deck of the tiny ship. _Only a month_ , he reminded himself again. _It won't be long._

And yet, when the ship was no longer even a dot on the horizon, Aeric couldn't help but think again: _Please come back._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To remain consistent with my fic "The Lift Away", but comply with canon, Dorian's mother's name is Aquinea Octavia Thalrassian, and she prefers to go by her middle name.

Dorian leaned against the rail of the ship, cradling a cup of ginger tea in his hands. The sea was calm, thankfully, his stomach at ease for once during the long journey. He looked to the southwest, to where he supposed Skyhold must be. With the warmth in his hands and the taste of the spiced tea on his lips, he felt his heart pull, strings bound tight around it. The strings twisted and drew taut, held by the elf listening through the crystal hanging at his chest. The soft white glow of the crystal was nearly invisible in the bright midday sun.

"…The captain of the ship is a brute, _amatus_ ," Dorian was saying, smiling at the horizon. "However, he did share with me a bottle of some fine rum he had stowed away, so appearances can be deceiving. Could use a bath… or ten. But a pleasant fellow, all things considered."

"You make him sound like a pirate," Aeric replied. His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in hours. Likely, he hadn't.

Dorian forced a little laugh, to hide the ache that filled him, knowing Aeric was retreating into himself in his absence. "He very well might be. Ship captains you might get in Val Royeaux have official papers, so one might be certain that contracts with them will be upheld. Sailors in Jader however… Well, they have no such requirements there. And so you get the riff raff of the sailing world."

"Naturally."

"Perhaps you should ask Dagna for a hook instead of a new hand," Dorian suggested, trying to keep his voice light. "You'd make a rather dashing pirate."

A dry chuckle came from the crystal. Small, but it was something at least. "Only in appearances. You know I get seasick as well."

Dorian laughed, not having to force it this time. "I'd forgotten, actually! We've not had the pleasure of sailing together, aside from the occasional rowboat across a lake. That should be remedied. Perhaps next year, we can travel to Antiva or Rivain together."

"You sound awfully excited about vomiting over the side of the ship together."

Aeric's comment was a joke, sarcastic and cautious. So why did it hurt to hear it? Dorian didn't answer for just a beat. And in the same instant, he realized what bothered him so. It sounded like something Dorian himself might have said two years ago, when he was still figuring out what a relationship with Aeric meant. Hesitant and guarded. Aeric was never that way with him. When Dorian answered, he thought of what Aeric might have said in reply. "So long as it is with you."

There was a long pause before Aeric answered. "That does sound nice, _ma'nehn_."

"It does, doesn't it?" Dorian turned the teacup in his hands and took a sip. He could see a distant coast past the glittering blue waves. He might see Qarinus this time tomorrow. "We should be arriving in Tevinter by dusk tomorrow," he told Aeric. "I'll take care of my family matters as quickly as I can then catch another ship back to Kirkwall. Two or three weeks more, _amatus_ , and I'll see you again." When Aeric didn't answer, Dorian sighed. "How is the packing coming along?"

"Not so well," Aeric replied. Dorian imagined him shrugging dismissively. "Sera and Thom are helping, but I hadn't realized how much I'd gathered in my time here."

"You've been at Skyhold for over three years," Dorian said. "Seems natural you'd put down proverbial roots."

Aeric gave an affirmative grunt. "It's hard to get rid of it all now. Everything has sentimental value."

Dorian frowned. "And the books?"

"That's the worst part," Aeric said, his deep voice turning mournful. "We had too many up here, _ma'nehn_ , and it's impossible to travel with more than two or three."

"What did you do with them?" Dorian asked apprehensively.

Aeric sighed. "I had to donate half to the Skyhold library. The rest I sent to the estate Varric has for me in Kirkwall." He paused, his voice turning into a grumble. "Took a whole day to choose which to keep and which to give away. Like choosing between children."

A wide grin crossed Dorian's face. "A man after my own heart." He paused, watching the shores of Antiva drift past. "You can't have them sent to Wycome, then?"

"I don't know. My clan has never been in one place for so long before." There was a rustle on the other end, a shifting of papers. "Listen, Dorian, I have some paperwork to do before the day is done."

Dorian felt a twist in his chest, a familiar feeling now for all the times he had to say goodbye to Aeric. "That's all right. I'll talk to you again tonight at the usual time, yes?"

"Yes."

With one hand on the teacup, Dorian brought the locket to his lips with the other hand, brushing up against the metal, warm from the bright sunlight. "I love you."

"…I love you. And I miss you."

Dorian's lips curled in a tiny smile, even though the words ached. "And I, you." He hesitated for a moment, waiting to see if Aeric had any more to say. When there was silence at the other end, Dorian closed the locket with a snap, the glow dissipating instantly.

He stood at the railing, both hands closing around the cooling teacup. This far north, the end of spring brought heat and copious amounts of sunshine. The Antivan coast held trees that reminded him of home, a few swaying palms waving in a distant breeze.

"So melancholy for such a lovely afternoon."

Dorian started, whirling around to find Relyne standing behind him with an eyebrow raised. "You startled me, Relyne! You should know better than to sneak up on me."

"I should," she agreed. "My hair stood on end for days after the last time, when you zapped me. But, alas, I am a poor learner." She crossed her arms over her chest. "But I am right, am I not, Monsieur? You are brooding again?" Her face softened. "About Monsieur Lavellan, perhaps?"

Dorian turned back around to look again at the distant shore. In the corner of his eye, Dorian saw Relyne coming up to the rail to stand beside him. "I feel like I've abandoned him. He needs me, more than ever, and what do I do?" He took a sip from the teacup. The tea was lukewarm. "I hop on the next ship to Tevinter."

Relyne leaned forward with her elbows on the rail. "Such was a necessary thing. And it is not for very long, all things considered."

"Even so." Shaking his head, he poured out the contents of the teacup and watched it fall into the water. "I should be by his side. The Inquisition is disintegrating, he was betrayed by a friend, he lost his arm…" Dorian sighed. "Is it any wonder that he's miserable?"

"And your intention is to… what?" Relyne asked, looking at him with a frown. "To punish yourself by being miserable as well?"

Dorian shrugged. "I can hardly be happy with matters as they are, can I?"

"I suppose not," Relyne conceded, turning back toward the ocean. "But Monsieur Lavellan has withstood much. I'm sure he will be fine soon."

The words didn't ring true in Dorian's ears. He couldn't help but think of how guarded Aeric had become, and so quickly. "I would love to believe you, my friend. I really would."

ooo

Dorian arrived in Qarinus to settle the inheritance of the Pavus estate and to attend the memorial service for his father. The first day or so was a flurry of paperwork that left Dorian more exhausted than if he had been fighting demons all day. It seemed inconceivable that he could feel so drained merely listening to legal jargon and doing no more than signing his name on a few dozen documents. Yet by the end of his second day in Tevinter, it was all he could do to keep awake while he talked with Aeric at the end of the day.

When the day of the memorial service arrived, Dorian woke early, greeted by sunlight dappling through gauzy curtains and the sound of waves crashing against the shore only a few hundred yards from his window. Too beautiful a day for a funeral, by far. Dorian stood up and padded to the window, smiling sadly at the sun dancing upon blue waters.

_Aeric would have loved this view._

Dorian tried not to linger on the thought, tried not to miss his _amatus_ too terribly. Naturally, the more he tried, the more he failed.

With an ache in his chest, Dorian sighed and turned toward the clothes set aside for the memorial service. Black robes, lined with royal purple and embroidered in silver. The cloth was thick and heavy, made especially so for the summer as a show of strength. A non-magical person or a lesser mage would find the robes sweltering in the summer heat, perhaps fainting with exhaustion before the end of the day. As with anything in Tevinter, it was a demonstration of one's magical prowess. The truly talented mages could cast a controlled bit of frost over themselves throughout the day, even while mingling, dancing, or weeping over lost loved ones.

Not that Dorian would be doing any weeping.

Dressed in his finery, he arrived in the courtyard of the main house of the Pavus estate - his estate now, he supposed - and gazed idly at the flowers as he waited for his mother. Relyne stood nearby, looking uncomfortable in her double-breasted waistcoat that bore the Pavus family crest emblazoned on the back.

"How can you be so comfortable in such clothing?" Relyne muttered. "And in such heat! If my hair were not already curly, the humidity would have made it so."

"It's a Tevinter thing, my friend," Dorian replied absently. With a flick of his wrist, he extended his frost spell to encompass her as well.

She gasped at the sudden cold, then grinned. "Ah, that is… quite nice. For all the complaining you do of the weather, it's a small wonder you do not do this sort of trick more often."

Dorian rolled his eyes. "I don't like the _cold_. You can't exactly do this with a fire spell. Even if you somehow managed not to scald your skin from the attempt, you're likely to burn your clothes off." He gave a wry chuckle. "Not that some mindless fools haven't tried, mind you. Sometimes you hear about magisters going south, not prepared for the cold. I'm told I had a great-great uncle who went to Ferelden and ran screaming out of the Frostback Mountains with his trousers in flames. Never heard from him again." At this, Dorian laughed in earnest. "Thalrassian side of the family, of course. Mother doesn't speak of him much."

Relyne laughed as well and shook her head. "Sometimes, Monsieur, I cannot tell whether you are lying to me or not."

"Depending on the lie," Dorian replied with a smirk, "neither can I."

Dorian's mother emerged from the house then, dressed in similar robes of black, purple, and silver. She glided more than walked, her gait smooth and regal. For a woman who was meant to be in mourning, she wore a broad smile on her face, the kind that Dorian could not remember seeing in a very long time. As she approached, Dorian held his arm out for her.

"Good morning, Dorian," she greeted as she took his arm.

"Mother," he replied, a bit curtly. He hadn't expected her to be sad about Father's passing, but did she have to look so joyful about it? "You're looking… chipper."

They began walking along a pathway to the back of the house, towards the gardens and the Pavus family mausoleum, Relyne following at a respectful distance. Dorian watched his mother, at the smile that fell into a familiar, disapproving scowl. "Am I not allowed to be joyful on a beautiful day like today?" In the past, Mother would have ignored his sarcastic remarks. Now, Dorian noted a flush in the color of her ears. "I know your father's death is still fresh in your mind, my son, but I have had nearly a month to mourn him. I shall be appropriately somber at the service, I assure you."

"Don't strain yourself on my account," Dorian muttered. He had hoped that, after her support of his relationship with Aeric the previous year, they might begin to have a closer relationship. Turned out that it didn't matter that Mother was sober more often now, or that she no longer viewed him as a failure. Three decades of bitterness was difficult to shed.

They arrived at the mausoleum, the outside already decorated with flowers. Someone with creation or nature magic must have done the decorations, as they grew right out of the ground. Only a small number of chairs were arranged in a semi-circle around the mausoleum door; this was to be a private service. The formal funeral had taken place weeks ago, in Dorian's absence, to honor the proper cremation rites. There had been a fine turnout of mourners, or so Dorian was told. Likely filled with sycophantic magisters, all pretending to be sorrowful at Father's passing. His murderers had almost certainly been in attendance.

Here, Dorian recognized a few faces. Some distant relatives on the Pavus side - his second cousins, perhaps, or third - who lived at the southern end of Tevinter, where they could present no threat to his father's place in the Magisterium. Mother's last remaining sister was there, the only Thalrassian who refused to marry. Representatives from allied houses were also amongst the guests: Hircus, Passer, Hirathinos, Tilani. As Dorian waved to Maevaris at the far end of the gathered guests, his stomach sank as he noted the presence of a woman he had not seen in over four years. She was a finely dressed lady, sitting so primly and straight-backed that Dorian wondered if perhaps she had a metal rod holding her up beneath her corset. Livia, his formerly betrothed. After the conflict between their families when Dorian refused to marry her, he was rather surprised to see her there.

Livia stood when they approached, dropping to a deep, graceful curtsy with ease. "Magister Pavus, Praetor Pavus. I am so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Livia," Dorian replied, hoping for a short conversation. He wasn't in the mood for awkward small talk.

"Yes, thank you, child," Mother said, looking distracted, as if searching for someone. "I hear you have been appointed magister in your husband's stead. Congratulations."

As Livia bowed her head in thanks, Dorian blinked at her. "You've married?"

Livia held a fan in one hand and covered her laugh daintily with it. "Despite your best efforts to sabotage me, yes. Though I am no longer married, exactly. Recently widowed, you see."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You have my condolences."

"Do I?" Livia raised an eyebrow. "From what I understand, you were all too glad to be rid of my husband."

Dorian frowned at her in confusion when his mother spoke up. "Dorian, dear, she is Livia _Anguis_ now." Mother sounded amused. "You dueled her husband Julius last year."

"You married that vile snake?!" Dorian struggled to keep his voice down, his anger flaring at the memory of Anguis' sneering, arrogant face. "He nearly murdered someone very dear to me."

"Dorian," Mother warned. "Remember where you are."

"It's all right, my lady," Livia said before turning back to Dorian. "My husband was certainly not without his faults. I make no claims to the quality of his character. If he did indeed try to murder someone, he no doubt deserved his fate at your hands." She smiled cordially, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "But I shall be seeing you in the Magisterium, it seems. I think I will enjoy butting proverbial heads with you when the Senate reconvenes in a few months." She gave another graceful curtsy. "But I take too much of your time. If you will excuse me, I see others wish to pay their respects."

As Livia stepped away, Dorian and his mother barely had time to say a short goodbye when another woman flounced over to them, fluffs of white hair framing her face. Dorian frowned at her. "Magister Lanatae," he greeted slowly. What was she doing here? Lanatae was not a friend. In fact, he was certain she and Father had hated one another.

"Magister Pavus," the older woman replied. Her voice was overly formal, only just masking the disdain she held for him. "Congratulations on your recent appointment to the Magisterium." Without waiting for an answer, Lanatae turned to his mother and her face changed completely. Where he had only ever seen her face riddled with contempt, all the hard edges fell away when her eyes met Mother's. "Octavia." Her voice as she said the name was soft velvet. "How very good to see you on such a beautiful morning."

Mother inclined her head with a small smile. "Adrienne, my dearest friend. It is a pleasure to see you as well. Won't you have a chat with me after the service has ended?"

"Yes, of course." Lanatae dipped into a slight curtsy and stepped aside to let them pass.

As soon as they were seated and out of earshot, Dorian hissed to his mother. "I didn't realize you and Lanatae were quite so chummy. You do realize she has been one of the most prominent voices against my reform measures?"

"I'm aware, Dorian."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Then you would know that she is not a person to be trusted. Frankly, I wouldn't be at all shocked if she had something to do with Father's murder."

Mother laughed softly, then harder as Dorian's eyes widened. "Not this time. But don't think she hasn't tried, dear."

Dorian raised an eyebrow at her, but she had already schooled her features into a subdued expression, as she had promised. Typical. He never could get a straight answer out of her.

With a sigh, Dorian let his eyes fall upon the mausoleum and the assortment of flowers surrounding it. He used to be fascinated with this place, filled with the kind of morbid wonder that came with being a lonely and entirely too intelligent child. He had always known that this was where he would be buried. A spot had been saved for his eventual remains, a niche in a wall reserved so that he might be interned with his ancestors for eternity. Only a few years ago, that thought was something of a comfort. Dorian belonged to something greater than himself. No matter how much of a disappointment he was to his parents, to his father, he still _belonged_ with the Pavus family. He was a part of their legacy, no matter how much of him his father tried to erase.

Sitting there, in the front row, beneath the warm sunlight, staring up at the mausoleum that was always meant to be his final resting place, Dorian felt deeply in his very bones that this was a burial he no longer wanted.

Aeric would have a tree. Dorian wanted a tree of his own beside it.

As the service began, a Chantry Brother stepped in front of those who had gathered and began reciting the Chant. As his voice droned on, changing after a time to a speech about the fleeting nature of life, Dorian let the words wash over him. The words were meaningless. Instead, he stared out at the portrait of his father propped up on an easel directly in front of him. The Chantry Brother told them all that Halward Pavus had been a great man. But it wasn't true. Powerful, certainly. Rich, absolutely. Talented, naturally. But greatness was beyond Father's grasp. Father desired greatness, chased it his entire life. That desire made him forsake his only son, abandon the love Dorian knew his father had once had for him. If Father had been so great, would he have paraded Dorian in front of the other magisters like a fancy trinket to grant him prestige and influence? Would Halward have let his fatherly pride sour into a pervasive disappointment whenever Dorian failed to live up to the impossibly high standards of being an heir to the Pavus bloodline? And instead of desperately trying to stamp out a vital part of who Dorian was, would Father have been accepting, if only he had been a great man?

Dorian's eyes fell closed, fists clenched to either side of him. If only loving someone were a simple thing.

His mother's cool hand found his right fist and held it. Dorian opened his eyes and looked at her, his heart aching even as anger burned within it. Mother broke her somber mask, and gave him a smile that was not joyous or false, but what seemed to be a genuine effort to comfort him. Dorian bowed his head to look away, his eyes hot with sudden tears that thankfully did not fall.

As the service drew to a close, the Chantry Brother opened the mausoleum doors. The guests filed in, each taking a flower from a basket beside the door or crafting one out of ice or stone. From his experience at past funerals and memorial services, there would be a vase set into his father's niche in the mausoleum where they would leave their flowers. Dorian took one from the basket and lingered at the rear of the queue.

Maevaris exited the mausoleum first and stopped beside him to give him a warm embrace. "Are you all right, darling?" she whispered.

Dorian nodded. "I… just need time to think, Mae. May we speak another time? I'd like to discuss Lucerni matters with you further before I leave southward again."

"Of course. But not now. Take the time you need today. We can worry about overthrowing the government when the atmosphere is not quite so heavy."

Dorian gave a soft, dry chuckle before Maevaris squeezed his shoulder and left.

The other guests walked past him on their way out of the mausoleum, each uttering platitudes. Beyond saying a few words of thanks, Dorian ignored them. When he was certain that the mausoleum was empty, Dorian entered.

The inside of the room was dim and musty, lit by a number of candles and lanterns. The mausoleum was only about as large as Aeric's quarters in Skyhold, but housed a set of stairs that led to catacombs below. Dorian stood over generations of his ancestors, one Pavus after another. "Great" men and women, or so he had been told. Dorian used to take their greatness as fact. Now, he wondered.

Dorian stepped up to his father's grave, a small marble wall closing the niche holding the urn of ashes inside. Gently, he placed his flowers, a stem of white orchids, into the vase. The frivolous ice roses from some of the guests were already melting. Dorian looked up from the vase to the metal placard that marked the grave with his father's name.

"I don't know what one should say to an estranged father when he's been killed." Dorian looked down at his hands. "I think… I think you were perhaps killed because of my efforts here in Tevinter. For that, I am sorry. You would probably think I should be sorry for a great many things… but this is the only apology you will get from me."

_It's not your fault_ , Aeric would have told him.

Dorian cleared his throat. "I suppose I don't have much else to say but this: I have found happiness." His skin prickled with the warring emotions within him. Anger and sadness and relief and satisfaction. "Despite all you've done, despite all you've tried to do, I have found someone whom I love, and who loves me in return. Consider it revenge if you like. I will."

He was about to turn away when he paused in hesitation. "Even still," he whispered, "I did love you. Goodbye, Father."

As Dorian left the mausoleum, he wished for some catharsis, to leave the heaviness in his heart behind with the ashes of his ancestors. Instead, it weighed upon him as much as ever before, if only to be released with time.


	3. Chapter 3

_Murderer…_ The wolf snapped at Aeric's left arm, teeth grinding against bone. Aeric cried out, green flames licking his palm. Gritting his teeth, he glared out at the wolf's pale eyes. _You killed my sister_ …

The wolf snarled and tore Aeric's arm from him. And he screamed.

Aeric's eyes opened.

He was back in his quarters, colder and draftier now that his possessions had been mostly packed away. Moonlight drifted in through the stained glass windows, though the stars were no longer visible in the pre-dawn. Sitting up, he ran his hand through his hair, trembling in a cold sweat.

Since Dorian had left for Tevinter, Aeric had been plagued by nightmares, making him wake in the early morning hours. He was used to waking early, but with every night as restless as the last, Aeric could feel himself wearing thin.

Pulling himself from bed felt like a terrible effort. He pushed himself up off the mattress and dragged himself to the washroom. His chest twisted in a familiar pang as his eyes fell upon the bathtub. He used to wake to the sound of Dorian shifting in the water as he bathed. Even if they still saw each other sometimes, when would they have that again? It was always the simple things that Aeric thought he missed the most. The domestic intimacy of living together, of sleepy mornings and lazy evenings.

Aeric stood over the washbasin and splashed water on his face, then looked up at his reflection in the mirror. A haggard version of his face stared back at him, dark circles around his eyes, hidden by his tattoos. The reflection scowled, his eyes tracing the vine-like lines decorating his face. Slave markings.

He felt like slamming his fist into the mirror.

Though he resisted the urge, his hand still clenched into a fist at his side. Aeric continued to glare at himself. _They said it was an honor_ , he thought bitterly. _They called it a rite of passage. Instead, I have declared myself a slave._ He closed his eyes and turned away from the mirror, unable to stomach the sight of his _vallaslin_ any longer. _Who am I now? Am I June's possession? Have I always been? Might as well have let the slavers take me as a child._

Aeric pushed the thought away, suddenly ashamed for thinking it. His mind had been full of melancholy thoughts lately, and he had no idea how to stop them. He wanted to look ahead, to see the ways things might be better in time. So why couldn't he?

Try though he might, he couldn't see past the day he lost his arm.

It only took Aeric a quarter of an hour to get dressed, an improvement over weeks ago. As he went to close the balcony door, he realized he didn't know where he wanted to go from here. The sky was lightening, but it was still dark outside. Before the Exalted Council, he would go to the kitchens to bake when he couldn't sleep. He considered going there now, having discovered there were a few things he could still do one-handed to cook. But he felt guilty whenever he asked for help. The kitchen staff had enough to do without teaching him how to cook the basics all over again.

Aeric tucked a book beneath his residual arm, grabbed a lantern, and started down the stairs of his tower. He walked without thinking, with no specific destination in mind, but he knew where he would eventually end up. The garden, and Paikea's tree.

The maple was still young, but taller and thicker now, full of wide green leaves. The embrium would be vibrant under the early summer sun, but in the early dawn, they swayed ghostlike in the breeze. There was a bench beneath the tree now, brought there by Josephine, who thought it was more becoming of the Inquisitor to sit in a proper chair when reading in the garden, instead of in the dirt and grass.

Aeric hung his lantern from a low branch just above the bench and sat down. His hand free, he reached out and touched the bark fondly. He missed her more than usual lately. Whenever he had lost his way in the past, Pai had always known what to say to bring him back to himself. And now knowing that Solas had been ultimately responsible for her death… His anger at her loss renewed. It was as if he were back at Haven, furious and floundering with the loss of her.

With a sigh, Aeric sat on the bench, found his page in the book - a history of Grey Wardens that he was borrowing from Thom - and began to read.

After about an hour, Aeric became aware of the presence of another person. He scowled as he looked up from his book.

Cole crouched in the grass, staring up at him from beneath the wide brim of his hat.

They watched each other for a moment, neither of them saying a word. Finally, Cole edged closer until he was sitting at Aeric's feet. "Used and Useless. Silenced and Silent. The world is the same, but upside down." Cole cocked his head to one side. "Perhaps you should stand on your head."

Aeric opened his mouth and found no sound came out as he tried to speak. It was happening more often these past few weeks. He hadn't spoken to anyone since talking with Dorian through the crystal the prior evening. He cleared his throat and tried again. "That would be hard to do one-handed," he said, his voice hoarse.

Cole gave a slow, sad nod. "Yes. Everything else is, too. I'm sorry."

Aeric shrugged.

"We are all leaving soon," Cole said softly, as if to himself. "Our departures felt far away, but now it's not. It's tomorrow and the next day and next week." He frowned at Aeric. "You don't want to leave."

Aeric shook his head.

"This is home. More home than other homes, for many of us." Cole turned his head, craning his neck to stare up at the maple tree's branches. "And you're worried about her. There's no one to care for her tree."

Again, Aeric did not answer. He was leaving Skyhold to Mother Giselle, to turn it into a shelter for the displaced refugees who were still recovering from the wars two years ago. He had never particularly liked Mother Giselle, mostly due to her unjust treatment of Dorian. But he trusted her to see that Skyhold was still a place where people who sought out help could find it. None of the Inquisition would remain. Josephine made certain that Aeric still had claim to the castle if they ever needed it - in the fight against Solas or otherwise - but it would be a place of pilgrimage going forward.

"If you asked Mother Giselle," Cole whispered, still staring up at the tree, "she would care for it."

"And when she eventually leaves?" Aeric asked at last. The thought of Skyhold being empty, devoid of a soul, and Pai's tree alone here in an overgrown garden… it haunted him.

Cole turned back to him and smiled. "It's a tree. The sun shines, or the clouds pour, the tree thrives." He paused. "You should see Sera."

Aeric thought to ask why, but decided it was pointless. It was still hard to get a straight answer out of Cole sometimes, and Aeric probably would have gone to visit Sera anyway. "Later. I doubt she's awake yet."

He expected Cole to leave then, but instead, the spirit rose to sit at the bench and continued to watch him. Cole's face appeared perplexed beneath the wide brim of his hat . He frowned at Aeric, his head cocked curiously to one side.

"What is it?" Aeric asked at last.

"You don't want me to ask how you are," Cole whispered. The early morning breeze rustled the leaves overhead. "Why?"

Aeric didn't answer right away, feeling heavy and tired. "It's all anyone ever asks."

"…What do you want me to ask?"

It took Aeric a long while to think of a reply, and Cole waited - still and patient - beside him. "I don't know," Aeric admitted at last.

Cole shifted and drew his feet in so he could hug his knees. "I want to help, Aeric." His tone was mournful, pleading. "You have helped me so much, and I've never been able to hear you as well as I do now. You're hurting. Please, let me help. What can I do?"

"Nothing."

"But-"

Aeric shook his head, swallowing around a lump in his throat. "You can't give me back my arm, can you?" His voice was so bitter, he barely recognized it as his own. "You can't take the tattoos from my face, or make them mean something other than what they do. You can't give me my sister back, can you? Or make Dorian take me with him to Tevinter?" He sighed, feeling instantly guilty. Cole didn't deserve Aeric's anger. Why couldn't Aeric stop himself from snapping at him? "I'm sorry, Cole. I don't think you can help me."

Cole said nothing, still hugging his legs to his chest. He was silent for so long that Aeric began reading again after a few minutes. Every so often, he would glance up from the page towards Cole to see he was staring up at Pai's tree again, as if listening to the wind. Half an hour passed, with the two of them sitting together.

"It's all right that you have to leave."

"Hmm?" Aeric hummed without looking up from the page.

"Paikea," Cole murmured.

Aeric's eyes shot up to meet Cole's.

"She won't be lonely, even if you're gone. It's all right to go."

Lifting his head to look at the tree's branches, a new day's sunlight filtering through the leaves, Aeric reached his hand out to touch the bark again. "Pai said that?"

Cole's brow furrowed. "It's hard, hearing things from beyond the Veil. There's… a feeling, not words." He paused, his face brightening. "But it helps, doesn't it? I wouldn't have heard her if it didn't."

Aeric closed his eyes, trying to hear it too. His heart ached with missing her, with bittersweet joy that she might still be thinking of him, somewhere. The smallest of smiles pulled at his lips.

"Yes. Thank you, Cole. It helps."

ooo

It was mid-morning when Aeric finally went to see Sera. He looked for her after breakfast, first checking her loft at the tavern before wandering towards the undercroft, where she spent much of her time watching Dagna work. As soon as Aeric descended the stairs and reached the door, he could hear Sera and Dagna laughing inside, with a few irritated grunts from Harritt. For a moment, Aeric's hand paused at the door handle. He had the sudden urge to run, to hide away in his quarters and be left alone. This wasn't the first time. Why did this keep happening? These were his friends… shouldn't he want to see them? Stubbornly, he tried to ignore the twisting of his insides and pushed his way into the work area.

Most of Dagna's equipment had already been packed away; she and Sera were leaving with him to Kirkwall in a few days. Inquisition staff had been directed to send the large rune-crafting apparatus after them, along with the assorted odds and ends that Dagna had brought with her when she joined the organization. But in true Dagna fashion, she couldn't stop herself from working up to the very last minute.

The two women looked up when he entered. "Viney!" Sera cheered as soon as their eyes met. Her smile was warm and infectious; Aeric couldn't help but return it. "Widdle has gadgets afoot. Or… an-arm? Anyways, she has new left bits for you."

Dagna grinned as he approached, pushing up a strange magnifying glass that had been strapped over one eye. "Here it is, Inquisitor!" She held up half of a metal arm, with a series of leather straps dangling from it. "It's a little crude for now, but after I get a workshop set up in Kirkwall, I should be able to refine it a bit." As soon as Aeric was close, she offered it to him. "Here. If you don't mind taking off your shirt, I'll show you how you put it on."

Aeric blinked down at the metal arm, his hand going to the clasps on his shirt as he did so. The metal arm looked to be made of silverite, glimmering even in the scattered sunlight reflected by the waterfall just outside the undercroft. It reminded Aeric of the vambraces from plate armor, but made in one solid piece. The forearm extended to a hinge, protected by an elbow guard. The elbow hinge opened up into a cup socket that held a leather sleeve, lined with a soft cotton. The straps he had noted earlier looked simple enough, made to be secured around his shoulder.

The most striking thing that Aeric noticed, however, was the lack of a hand or hand-like implement. The forearm simply ended after a string of golden runes that circled what would be the wrist. There was a hole at the end, and Aeric raised a curious eyebrow at it, not sure what it was for.

"I know it looks, well, weird," Dagna said, taking his shirt from him. "But I'm awfully excited to show you how it works!" As Aeric lowered himself into a chair before her, Dagna slipped a soft woolen sock over the remainder of his left arm. After sliding on the metal prosthetic, she got up on her tiptoes to sling the leather straps over Aeric's neck and shoulders. "The straps won't always be so complicated, but this should keep it stable until I have time to figure out how to keep it secured without chafing. But look! After you have it over your head, you should be able to tighten it one-handed! No problem!" Dagna pointed to the clasps: one at the middle of his bicep, and one atop his shoulder. They reminded Aeric of adjustable belts, with varied holes to catch with a metal prong and a loop to flatten the two straps together. Another loop of leather at the bottom of the holed strap ensured that the two sides would never fall completely apart.

Aeric frowned in concentration as he practiced tightening the straps and undoing them. "Seems doable." Leaving the straps flat against his skin, he examined the runed wrist and the hole at the end. His frown deepened.

"Oh, I forgot the best part!" Dagna exclaimed, her eyes widening as he frowned. She ran past Sera, who was throwing small rocks down the waterfall and watching them drop. When Dagna returned, she had with her a small satchel that clattered as she moved. "Attachments!" Behind her, Sera snickered, and Dagna's smile turned lopsided. " _Not_ the ones that Sera suggested. I mean, we considered them, but there wasn't time, and I couldn't start on them without wanting to die of embarrassment, and…" Her cheeks burned bright red. "Anyway. _Normal_ attachments for normal things."

"Boinking's normal," Sera piped up, still snickering. "Just saying."

Dagna grinned back at Sera, affection and mischief in her eyes. Turning back to Aeric, she placed the satchel on his lap. "Go on, take a look!"

Aeric loosened the drawstring and peered inside, not sure what to expect. Inside, there were what looked to be an assortment of tools or bits of armor. He pulled out the one that looked like a hand. It had moveable joints at the knuckles, each with a tiny yellow rune beside it. Another small rune, this one on a post at the base of the hand, glowed green. "This part connects here?" Aeric asked, trying to put the hand together with the arm.

"Yes, just give it a good twist, and it locks in place."

With Dagna and Sera watching him with anticipation, Aeric inserted the post from the hand into the hole at the wrist of the metal arm. With a twist, it locked with a snap.

A faint tingling swept over his left side. Aeric blinked at the arm in surprise. It wasn't feeling. Not quite. But he was aware of the arm, connected by more than leather and metal.

Sera leapt off her perch by the waterfall and crept closer, cautious but curious. "How… how's it feel, Viney? Try moving a digit?"

Aeric wasn't certain how he was supposed to move it, but chose the metal pointer finger to focus upon. He stared at it, his brow furrowing, thinking about it moving. Willing it to happen.

The finger remained still.

"It's not working," Aeric grunted.

"The connection between the runes has only just formed," Dagna said, though her words didn't sound as encouraging as she probably meant them to be. "And I might have to do some tweaking. Try it again?"

Aeric concentrated again. A moment passed. And another. _It's not going to work._

The finger twitched.

"Friggin' yeah!" Sera cheered, giving Aeric's shoulder a playful shove.

Dagna gave a hop of excitement. "It worked! You did it!"

Aeric tried to smile, knowing he should be thankful for even that much. Certainly no magic like this had ever been attempted before. It was impressive, truly an accomplishment.

Why, then, did he feel so numb?

The smiles faded from their faces at his silence. He hated to see it. "That's just the beginning," Dagna said slowly, her tone cautious, as if afraid he might shatter if she spoke too forcefully. "With practice, you should gradually gain more mobility."

Sera patted his good arm. "Little steps, right? Like Widdle's. Widdle steps. You'll have it eventually."

Aeric only nodded, knowing he disappointed them. He wanted to be excited with them. Instead, he looked back into the bag. "Can you show me what these other attachments are for?"

Over the next half hour, Dagna described each attachment in great detail, letting him plug each piece into the metal arm and try to move it. A ratcheting latch to hold a bow. A small crossbow that could fire five-inch bolts. A spring-loaded hidden blade that popped out of the hollow of the arm with a thought. A clamping hook for carrying things. A rock climbing attachment with a built-in piton.

It was the pieces for cooking that made Aeric smile at last. When he spotted them at the bottom of the satchel, he snatched them up at once. "There's a balloon whisk!" he said in a happy whisper, twisting it into the prosthetic. There was a chef's knife and a spatula as well.

"It was Sera's idea," Dagna said softly while Sera's face turned red. "She said you were getting frustrated with cooking lately."

Aeric didn't respond at first, trying the other cooking instruments in his arm. As ridiculous as they looked at the end of the prosthetic, Aeric's mind was already working at the recipes he could try again. He probably didn't need all of the new cooking attachments - he was right-handed, after all, and had no trouble with some of the simpler tasks. But there were delicate things, complex things, he had been eager to make. He had been working on Orlesian macarons and meringues before he'd lost his arm. He used to love making beautiful, braided loaves of bread. Perhaps he could relearn to do those things. Of course he could.

Rising from his seat, he crossed the room and gave Sera a tight embrace. "Thank you."

Sera squirmed, her face still red. "Get off me, you," she said in a stuffy voice. "'Fore waterworks happen." When he released her, Sera shrugged and gestured at Dagna. "'Sides, it's Widdle that did the hard work. I just had thoughts."

"Good ones," Aeric replied.

"Yeah? Go hug Wids, then." Sera pushed him gently towards Dagna. "She's worth five for thinking."

Aeric smiled, but Dagna still seemed uncertain. He wondered if she could tell he was pleased. Dorian was always the only one who could always tell when he was smiling. "Thank you, Dagna," Aeric said, bending to give her a light hug.

"It's a pleasure, Inquisitor!" Dagna's eyes twinkled. "It was such an interesting challenge! That's only the prototype. I'd like to try to get it lighter and more comfortable for you, but this should at least get you used to the magic. I think we'll be sticking around Kirkwall for a while, so we can visit you in Wycome when I've got some upgrades for you."

"Or come down to Kirkwall and give us a visit," Sera piped up. "Not keen on seeing the elfy elves. Even if they're _your_ elfy elves."

Aeric scowled. "Not really keen on seeing them either," he admitted with a sigh.

"You don't wanna see your parents?"

Aeric shook his head.

Sera's brow furrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Why not? They cruel to you or somethin'?"

"Nothing like that," Aeric said as he detached the whisk and started tucking all the attachments into the satchel. "I… haven't seen them since Pai died." He shrugged, the moment of lightness gone as quick as it came, replaced by a heaviness that pressed in on him from all sides. "We've never been without her before."

There was more to it than that, of course. There was always more.

Sera brightened suddenly, running to the other end of the undercroft. "That reminds me! I've got a present for you! A going-away thing, even though we're sorta going with you. Half, at least. The trip, not the present." She grabbed a small leather tube, belted closed at one end, and came running back. Before she had even stopped moving, she handed it to Aeric. Yet, as soon as the leather touched his hand, she snatched it back. "Sorry!" she yelped. "Wasn't thinkin'! You've only got half a set of hands, and the top's fiddly."

Aeric tried to keep himself from scowling again and stubbornly took the leather tube back from her. Pinning it between his left arm and his body, he wriggled the belt loose and pulled the lid off.

"Oh! You've got it!" Sera's smile grew to a grin. "So, few days ago, I saw you sittin' by that tree of yours in the garden, right? And I'm thinkin', you can't bring trees with you on boats or to strange cities halfway 'cross the world. But this one tree means tons to you. And I notice something else." Between the straps of the prosthetic, Sera poked him, right on top of one of the tendril-like scars that were burned into his upper arm. "You've got scars from that Mark thing from Andraste. And they come up from the cut end, just like branches." Sera pulled at a corner of paper in the tube and gently pulled out a large painting. "Long story short, I drew your tree."

Sera unfurled the painting to reveal a maple tree, gold and orange and dark crimson in the midst of autumn. Aeric recognized the tree's trunk and branches; the same pattern was scarred into what remained of his left arm. With a clenching in his chest, he touched the painting with reverent fingertips. Sera's sketches were always good, but this… This, she must have taken time with, each stroke of the brush across the parchment careful and deliberate. Aeric was no artist himself, but he had worked at it long enough to see fine work when he saw it.

"It's beautiful," Aeric breathed. There was a sense of peace in the painting, a serenity that he often felt when sitting beneath Pai's tree. He could see Sera herself in it too, in the happy play of the brush strokes in the maple leaves. His two sisters, perfectly captured in a single work of art. He wanted to express this to her, but once more, the words did not want to come out of his mouth.

"You like it?" Sera asked, the tips of her ears turning red. "You're doing that thing with your face where it's not all grumps, so I'm thinking you like it."

Aeric nodded, wishing he could make himself speak. Instead, he embraced her again and ruffled her hair.

Sera laughed, smacking his hand away. "Friggin' sap. But did you notice the best part?" She pointed to the bottom of the tree, dark roots curling into the ground. At least, they had looked like roots when Aeric had first glanced at them. On closer inspection, he saw they were actually signatures, swirling out from the bottom of the tree. Sera's name, and the others. Thom and Vivienne and Dagna and Lace Harding. Varric and Iron Bull and Cole and Cassandra. Josephine and Cullen and even Leliana. "I thought, if you're taking little sister with, might as well take the whole family too, yeah?"

Aeric's eyes filled with tears, and he nodded again.

Her smile softening, Sera pointed to an empty spot in the middle of all the signatures, right in the center. "Just missing one. Important one, that."

"Yes," Aeric agreed, still unable to take his eyes off the painting she held before him. His hand clasped around the locket at his neck. "Just missing one."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait... Slowly trying to make some progress on this. Smut ahead.

The Dalish had never had a single place to call home, not since the Exalted March that gave the Emerald Graves its name. When Aeric was a child, he knew early on that it was foolish to become too attached to any one place. The Dalish were nomads. Even if one camp had been good to them, had provided well for them, they had to move on after a time. It wasn't safe to be so rooted.

Aeric was a terrible Dalish in that respect as well.

The morning of his departure towards Jader, and eventually to Kirkwall, Aeric wandered Skyhold. There were so few people there now that the Inquisition was almost done disbanding. Eventually, Chantry sisters and lay missionaries would be the only ones left. As Aeric walked across the grounds and through the halls, he carried a powerful ache with him to see the castle so empty, this place he called home for over three years.

He began with his quarters _. Their_  quarters. The only home he ever shared with Dorian, and he was leaving it behind. Each small spot seemed haunted, the ghosts of fond memories flitting in abandoned spaces. The stables felt quiet without the steady thump of Thom's axe upon firewood. The tavern - once so full of music and laughter - felt eerie without the Chargers' bawdy tales or Sera's cackling from the rafters. Without its maps and markers, the War Room looked odd, like a large dining room without chairs. Its heavy oak table stood alone in the center of the room, standing like an altar to some forgotten god.

As Aeric crossed the Great Hall into the base of the tower, he could feel bile rising in the back of his throat. He had once looked upon Solas' paintings with pride, feeling accomplished as each event was added to the fresco. Now, each time Aeric laid eyes upon the walls of Solas' study, he hated every inch of them. The unfinished wolf in particular. When he had returned from the Exalted Council, he wanted to paint over them, to erase any evidence that Solas had been there. That he had been a trusted friend.

He let the paintings be. For now, as a remembrance for what came before and what was yet still to come. One day Aeric would stop Solas. He would kill his sister's murderer and come back to Skyhold, if only to erase the wolf from the wall.

With a heavy heart, Aeric climbed the stairs to the library. Here were the most ghosts, in the place where Aeric had some of his fondest memories. Even just standing at the top of the stairs, the library felt so silent and still, hollowed out and empty. Many of the books were gone, sent ahead to Aeric's new estate in Kirkwall or claimed by some of the other researchers. Aeric could no longer hear the cawing of crows above or the whisper of archivists or the sharp tap of boots upon the stones.

Aeric turned to his left, staring at the nearby bookshelf. Dorian kissed him for the first time here. With a swallow, Aeric walked to the alcove, dark without the flickering lights of candles. Pale morning sunlight poured through the small window, and Aeric recalled the times he came home to Skyhold, spotting Dorian standing in the window, waiting for him. Countless hours spent reading in silence, sitting on the floor at Dorian's feet, caressing his knee. Kisses with Dorian - soft ones, deep ones, happy ones, sad ones, ones that were in between or both at once.

The chair was gone, and that was perhaps the worst of it all. It had been sent ahead to the Kirkwall estate as well, but in that moment, it felt as if any evidence of Dorian's presence in the library had been discarded. Aeric stared for several minutes, trying to imagine his love there once more.

"Inquisitor?"

Aeric turned to find Josephine behind him, her ever-present writing tablet in hand. As the person organizing the dismantling of the Inquisition, she would be one of the last to leave.

"It's just 'Aeric' now, Josephine."

She blushed. "Lord Aeric…"

Aeric gave a small smile. "Come now. I'm not even a lord."

"Yes, I know," Josephine said with a rueful laugh. "But it is so difficult to break old habits." She cleared her throat, taking on a somewhat businesslike demeanor. "Your hart has been prepared for your journey to Jader, as well as the mounts for Sera and Dagna. A few of the remaining Inquisition soldiers have offered to accompany you, just to ensure that you don't run into any difficulties."

"It's just over a day on horseback," Aeric said. "Is that really necessary for such a short trip?"

Josephine's serious expression softened. "It's only a precaution. As you well know, the Frostbacks are more difficult to traverse on the eastern side, and harbor some violent creatures."

Aeric sighed. "And I can't fight."

"Not yet." She stepped forward and put a hand on his left shoulder. "I have every confidence that you will learn. Be patient with yourself, Aeric."

He nodded, then turned back to look around the alcove one more time, making Josephine pull her hand away.

"Even though Lord Dorian has been gone a long time now," Josephine said softly, "this spot has always been his."

Wordlessly, Aeric gave another nod.

"You will be seeing him in a few days."

Aeric turned to her, and he couldn't help the smile that found its way to his lips. "At last."

She returned the smile. "It warms my heart to see that he still makes you so happy." When he did not answer, she bowed her head by way of excusing herself. "Take your time, my friend. Your entourage will be ready to leave whenever you are." Giving his shoulder a final squeeze, she turned to walk back down the stairs.

Aeric lingered a moment longer, feeling lighter in anticipation of reuniting with Dorian. His heart quickened in his chest at the thought. Over a month together - the longest visit since Dorian left for Tevinter a year and a half ago.

Suddenly eager to be on his way, Aeric descended the stairs and headed for the garden. Though he had said his goodbyes to Pai many times over the past week, he wanted her to give her a final one before leaving Skyhold. When he reached the maple tree, he brushed a few fallen leaves from the bench and plucked a few final weeds from the bed of embrium. Feeling oddly nervous, he placed his hand on the bark and gazed up at the green leaves above him.

"I'm headed home today, Pai." He paused. "Well, back to the clan, at least. I'm… uneasy about returning without you, but Dorian will be with me and he makes everything better." Thinking of his sister rolling her eyes at him, he smiled. "You would be sick of goodbyes by now, if you were here. I can almost hear you telling me to get moving already. So I won't stay much longer." He took a deep breath and sighed. "I only wanted to say one more time how much I love you and miss you. But I'll come to visit sometime. And your tree will have grown strong and tall by then." He patted the bark fondly. "Perhaps I will have grown stronger as well."

He pressed a kiss to his fingertips then touched them to the tree. Then he turned and walked, and kept walking until he reached the courtyard where Sera, Dagna, and three soldiers awaited him.

Aeric mounted his hart and cast one final look over all of Skyhold.

"Ser!" one of the soldiers called to him. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes," he lied.

At his word, Aeric led the group out of the courtyard, away from Skyhold, and - hopefully - towards better things.

ooo

The Kirkwall docks smelled like fish. And not that neutral, fresh smell Dorian had come to realize fish was meant to smell like, from what few times he had accompanied Aeric when he went fishing in the Hinterlands. No, it was the dank, putrid kind where the fish had surely been left out all day under a hot sun. It had been years since Dorian had spent any significant length of time in Kirkwall. He'd told Varric once that the city was a shithole. Now that Dorian had returned, he found his opinion of the place hadn't much changed.

Still, he remained at the docks despite the odor, trying not to breathe too deeply. Aeric's ship was over an hour late, and Dorian would be damned if he wasn't present at the very second Aeric stepped off of the glorified ferry boat. It had only been about five weeks since they had last seen each other, but it didn't seem to matter how long their separation was. One month? Seven months? Ten? Excitement and anticipation tore at his insides until he felt as if he might burst. They hadn't been together long during his last visit, and Dorian was all too eager to make up for lost time.

As Dorian watched the southern horizon, he paced in nervous oblong shapes, dodging porters and filthy sailors spitting upon the planks. He could count worry and guilt amongst the jumble of emotions swirling in his stomach. Guilt that he had left Aeric, just after he lost his arm, the Inquisition, and a friend all at once. Guilt that their previous reunion was cold and strange. Worry that Aeric seemed subdued and melancholy more often than not during their nightly talks over the sending crystal. Dorian hoped their time together over the next several weeks would lift his beloved's spirits, even just a little. Aeric had told him more than once that their separation made him miserable. Dorian prayed that their time together would do the opposite.

Unable to stand the wait any longer, Dorian opened his locket. " _Vox_ ," he said and waited until the blue glow turned white. " _Amatus?_ "

Dorian could hear Aeric clearing his throat a little before answering. "Hello, Dorian. We're almost there."

Squinting, Dorian scanned the channel that marked the entrance into Kirkwall's harbor. "Is that you on that ship coming between those hideous bronze statues with the chains?"

"The Twins?" Aeric's voice held a note of disgust. Dorian figured he would hate them. "Yes, that's us."

"Good." Dorian paused. "Are you all right? You sound a mite raspy." When Aeric didn't answer right away, Dorian pressed on. "Aren't Sera and Dagna supposed to be keeping you company?"

"They were, but I didn't feel much like talking after some trouble with Quiet."

Dorian frowned. "Your hart?"

There was a pause. Dorian imagined Aeric nodding, forgetting that Dorian couldn't see him. He did it often. "When Josephine made the arrangements, she had specifically asked if mounts were allowed aboard this ship. When we arrived, the first mate said it didn't apply to - and I quote - 'strange fucking elf animals'."

"That's preposterous," Dorian grumbled as he strained his eyes to watch the ship come through the channel. He could tell there were people on the deck, but they were mere specks dotting the ship's railing. "Is that why you're late?"

Aeric didn't answer.

Dorian chuckled. "You know I can't see you nodding,  _amatus._ "

"Right, sorry. Yes."

The two of them chatted for a while as they waited for the ship to pull into the dock. Dorian described his brief time in Kirkwall - visiting Varric at his offices and spending the night at the Hanged Man, which was just as seedy a tavern as Dorian had imagined from Varric's stories. He managed to get a laugh out of Aeric as he went into detail about his thoughts on the unwashed sailors around him.

"They can probably hear you,  _ma'nehn_ ," Aeric said, his voice lilting.

Hearing the lightness in Aeric's voice, Dorian felt triumphant despite the pointed glares from two burly men nearby, both missing a few teeth and one with a black eye. "I hope they  _can_  hear me," Dorian replied, casting his best smile at the sailors. "Perhaps then, they'll give some thought towards good hygiene." As the ship neared, Dorian spotted a brown-haired figure standing at the bow. "Oh! I think I see you!" He raised his arm to give a wave.

"You can?" Aeric's voice brightened. There was a pause before the figure on the ship suddenly bounced, waving his arm high above his head. "There you are! Gods, it's good to see you!" Another pause as the figure peered over the railing. "How cold do you think the water is?"

With a somewhat nervous laugh, Dorian waved his arms more frantically to stop him. "No! What are you doing, you idiot? Stay on the boat!" His heart swelled. After all this time, after everything, Aeric was always so irrepressibly foolhardy with his greetings. "Look, I can see you better now. You'll be docking in a few moments. You can stand to be patient, can't you?"

Aboard the ship, Aeric shrugged.

Laughing again, Dorian watched as oars emerged from the ship, maneuvering it close to the dock. Deckhands leapt from the ship with thick ropes and secured the ship into place with the help of several porters. Sera's face appeared beside Aeric's at the rail, and Dorian could just see the top of Dagna's head on Sera's other side.

As soon as the gangplank had been placed, Aeric all but ran down it, making it rock and sway. Several of the sailors shouted after him, but he bounded heedlessly toward Dorian.

With a grin, Dorian caught Aeric in his arms, staggering several steps backward from the momentum. "Maker's breath, you're incorrigible!" he laughed, his cheeks warm as they embraced one another. "I'm surprised you didn't leap to the dock."

"I thought about it," Aeric replied, his voice muffled with his face pressed near Dorian's neck. Aeric's breath sent tiny shivers across Dorian's skin. "I've missed you,  _ma'nehn_."

"Oh, but I've missed you more," Dorian declared, pulling back far enough that he could kiss Aeric, his very skin starved for contact. Aeric's lips on his were needy, urgent. A flush of warmth spread over Dorian's entire face, still unused to such public displays of affection. Perhaps over the next several weeks, he'd become more accustomed to them.

As they kissed, Aeric's arms tightened around Dorian. It took a moment before he realized how odd that was. He broke their kiss, panting a little. "W-Wait a moment…" he said and grabbed Aeric's left arm with wonder. "Dagna finished it!" Dorian exclaimed, marveling at the prosthetic and inspecting the runes. He wiggled one of the metal fingers, testing how it bended. "How does it feel?"

Aeric's grin dwindled a bit. "It's all right," he said with a shrug. "I'm not used to it yet. I'm having a hard time moving it."

"But you  _can_  move it?" Dorian asked, and Aeric nodded. "That's incredible. Where is Dagna? I must commend her on her work."

After a few minutes, Sera and Dagna descended together, both of them smiling as they spotted Dorian and Aeric. "I wanted to go running off too," Sera said without preamble, "but deckhands made us wait. Viney nearly knocked the gangplank over!"

Aeric looked unapologetic, his right arm still firmly around Dorian's middle.

Dorian gave Sera a sideways embrace, his left side still attached to Aeric, then turned to Dagna. "I was just admiring Aeric's new arm, Dagna. You've done marvelous work."

"It still needs a lot of work before I'm happy with it," Dagna said modestly, though she looked up at him with pride. "But I thought it'd be better for the Inquisitor to have something right away, so he can get used to it. I'm hoping we can set up a workshop here pretty quickly, so I can get started on adapting it for him." She smiled up at Aeric. "Not to worry, Inquisitor! I'm sure with the right equipment, I can make that arm even better for you." With a chuckle, she stopped herself. "Sorry! Aeric, I mean. That will take some getting used to."

"It's all right," Aeric replied. "I've had to remind several people that it isn't my title anymore."

"Glad to be rid of it?" Dorian asked.

"Yes." Aeric gave Dorian a squeeze. "It was time to move on."

Dorian would have liked to have moved on in a literal sense, but it took some time for their luggage and Aeric's brown hart to be unloaded from the ship. The four friends chatted as they waited, Dorian catching them up on what he had been doing while in Tevinter. Every now and then, Dorian pulled Aeric tight against his side and felt Aeric's arm tighten around him in return. His heartbeat quickened each time in anticipation of their impending time alone together, if only the bloody crew would hurry.

By the time their group had retrieved all of their things, Dorian was about ready to drag Aeric off to the nearest empty room. The very second that everyone was ready, Dorian led them to the Hanged Man and retrieved his travel bag in a hurry. With a wave goodbye to the girls, he and Aeric promised to meet up for breakfast the following morning before they departed for Wycome.

"Slow down,  _ma'nehn,_ " Aeric said, his good arm linked with Dorian's and the prosthetic one hooked onto Quiet's reins. He wore one of his typical smiles, one that only touched his eyes. The kind of smile Dorian sometimes felt only he could see.

"Blasted city is deceptively large," Dorian said, charging between passersby as they made their way to Hightown. "It will take forever to reach your new estate at this rate. We should have just stayed at the Hanged Man."

"You said it smelled like piss and druffalo vomit."

Dorian laughed. "Doesn't it, though? But at least then I'd have you to myself already." He pulled Aeric's hand up to plant a kiss on his knuckles. Maker, it felt good merely to hold his hand again. "If it takes much longer, I might insist we make a spectacle of ourselves."

Aeric's eyes narrowed in a thoughtful expression before he tugged Dorian in an entirely different direction.

" _Amatus,_  what…"

Aeric did smile fully then, a twinkle in his eyes, but he didn't answer. Dorian followed curiously, wondering if perhaps Aeric had found some shortcut to the upper end of Hightown.

Instead, Aeric slowed and pulled Dorian close to the buildings. Every time they passed an alleyway, Aeric peeked in then kept moving.

"What are you looking for?" Dorian asked, his curiosity giving way to a bit of frustration.

"You'll see… ah!" With a gentle push, Aeric guided Dorian into one windowless alleyway, pausing to let go of Quiet's reins. He nudged her to block the entrance to the alley then gave her a pat on her neck. "Stay, girl."

"Aeric, what is-"

Aeric's lips were on his at once. With a yelp of surprise, Dorian let himself be pushed further into the alley as they kissed, giving a soft moan as Aeric's tongue brushed tantalizingly upon his own.

Oh, but Dorian did so like Aeric's ideas.

Dorian turned his head just a little, deepening the kiss. His heart pounded in his ears, his face flushed with excitement. He felt as if his short stay over a month ago had never happened, as if it had been eight or nine whole months since they'd been together, and suddenly he was hard and wanting and desperate. Aeric's hand cupped the back of Dorian's neck, carded through his hair, tugged deliciously when Dorian's teeth grazed the line of  _vallaslin_  on his lip. Their hips rocked together, clothed erections slipping past one another. Aeric let out a grunt of pleasure even as Dorian moaned once more into his mouth.

As Dorian pulled at the clasps of Aeric's leather tunic, they came undone easily, revealing a wealth of muscled chest and smooth bronze skin. Needing to taste more, feel more, Dorian moved his mouth down from Aeric's cheek to his neck, peppering him with tiny nips that made his breath catch. Dorian's hands splayed across Aeric's back, wanting to feel everything. Holding his beloved close with one arm - indeed, as if his life depended upon it - Dorian brought his other hand up to Aeric's chest, teasing one nipple with his thumb. Aeric's breath stuttered, green eyelids fluttering closed. As Aeric let his head fall to one side, giving Dorian better access, Aeric's hand fumbled at the buckle at Dorian's waist. He gave a hiss of impatience. "You'd think you'd… ah… at least try to make things… easier on me,  _ma'nehn_ ," Aeric panted with a chuckle. He pulled again at Dorian's belt. "Help?"

Grinning against Aeric's collarbone, Dorian undid the offending buckle and mentally promised to wear simpler clothes, if only for Aeric's sake.

Aeric made short work of the laces on Dorian's trousers, loosening them enough for him to slide a hand beneath the waistband and cup Dorian's ass. Dorian murmured his approval, turning his attention to the pert peak of Aeric's ear. Dorian swiped his tongue down along the edge of the ear, ending with a little bite at the lobe. Aeric gasped, his knees almost buckling. Bracing himself with his metal arm against the wall, Aeric sucked in air between his teeth. His hand circled around to the front, stroking up against Dorian's length.

Dorian gave a shuddering sigh _. Finally…_

"I've been dreaming of tasting you for weeks," Aeric moaned, his voice rumbling in Dorian's ear. Aeric pulled open the trousers and pushed down just enough to free the erection held within.

Dorian stared at Aeric with wide-eyed wonder as the elf bent to his knees before him. Casting a wild glance at the alley's entrance, at the throng of people still passing mere yards from them, Dorian grinned, a flush and a thrill going through him. All someone would have to do was chance a look into this alleyway and they would see Aeric taking Dorian into his mouth.

As soon as Aeric's lips closed around him, Dorian had to suppress a groan. He threw his head back, Aeric's tongue swirling in slow circles around the head. So warm… so wet… so fucking  _good_ … and it took all of Dorian's will to stifle his moans. "Yes… oh yes, Aeric…" he whispered, his hands going to the back of Aeric's head as he lowered his mouth, taking Dorian in fully.

Aeric's mouth began to move, his deft tongue rubbing that bundle of nerves on the underside of Dorian's cock. The sucking sounds he made were exquisite, seeming loud in their poor attempts at secrecy. Dorian's legs trembled. "You blessedly wicked man," he murmured between shuddering gasps. "Maker help me, I love you so much…"

Below him, with his mouth still around Dorian's length, Aeric gazed up at him, his blue eyes positively shining with joy.

It had been too long -  _months_  - since he had Aeric's mouth on him like this. Their lovemaking during the last visit was too few, too gentle, too subdued by injury and misunderstandings and responsibility. And after all that, to have Aeric here, in the middle of a fucking street in Kirkwall, sucking on him as he was… Dorian gripped the edges of the bricks behind him. The pressure built within him, close to bursting.

Too much and too little all at once. He needed to share this feeling with Aeric, to see this bliss reflected upon his face.

With some effort, Dorian slowed Aeric with a hand upon his face. The elf released him with a pop that made Dorian laugh, casting another furtive glance at the busy street nearby. "I need to kiss you…" Dorian whispered breathlessly. "I need to hold you and feel you and fucking  _come_  with you, you beautiful man."

As Aeric stood, he gave a little grumble of protest. He leaned forward, his breath warm against Dorian's cheek. "But you were so delicious," he purred.

Dorian shivered. His hands were at Aeric's waist at once, unbelting his trousers and nearly tearing open the laces. As he slipped a hand beneath the cloth, he grinned to discover Aeric still so hard, his smalls wet with precum. Dorian's need to come had waned somewhat, but at finding Aeric still so gloriously aroused, Dorian felt another surge of warm pressure. "My, but you're ready for me," he murmured.

"Always," Aeric replied and, with a desperate little growl, crushed his mouth to Dorian's.

With one arm around Aeric, Dorian held their erections together in his other hand, casting a small grease spell to ease things along. Aeric braced himself once more with his metal arm against the wall. As he began to move, a slow thrust of his length against Dorian's, they moaned into each other's mouths. The scent of sex was heavy in the air now, and Dorian could swear he could hear Aeric's heartbeat drumming loudly in time with his own.

For several minutes, they moved together, stifling cries and groans with each other's mouths. Slick skin slipped against skin, warm and wet and wonderful. When their lips parted, Dorian locked eyes with Aeric, their breaths heavy between them as they watched each other with such naked love and lust mirrored in each other's faces.

Until the friction was too much and the pressure was too much, spilling over Dorian all at once. As he came, he buried his face against Aeric's shoulder to muffle his cry, clutching at him with his free hand like a lifeline. Drunk with pleasure, spent and over-sensitized, Dorian held Aeric close while he continued to slide against him, holding back laughter as the rush of sensation turned ticklish.

"Dorian…!" Aeric cried as he came a moment later, unabashedly loud in the echoing alleyway. Dorian did laugh then, glancing over his shoulder to see two noblewomen scurry past Quiet with scandalized voices.

Still grinning, Dorian pulled Aeric into an embrace as he recovered from his orgasm, his soiled hand and their slackening erections still held between them. "You are the most magnificent person, do you know that?" Dorian whispered, his heart swelling in his chest.

Aeric gave him a languid smile from where he rested against Dorian's shoulder. "Only to match you,  _ma'nehn_." He lifted his hand up to caress Dorian's cheek, his thumb brushing fondly across his mustache. "I love you. I'm so happy to be with you again."

"My thoughts precisely," Dorian said, planting a kiss soundly upon the crease of Aeric's brow.

They stood there together, naked where it mattered, clothed where it didn't, relishing in holding each other so close. Once they finally felt ready to go, Aeric retrieved a cloth from a saddlebag to clean themselves up before they set on their way again.

Dorian chuckled as he looked over Aeric, his hair and clothes mussed so thoroughly. He supposed he must look no different. "Even if one didn't catch our little display, there's no doubt what we've been up to, given the state of us. Might as well hang up a sign."

"I'm glad they know," Aeric said, his eyes twinkling.

"Oh? Proud of our debauchery, are you?"

"A little." Aeric smiled up at him. "More proud to be with you."

Dorian found himself at a loss of what to say. Instead, he merely smiled and pulled Aeric in close to catch his cheek with a kiss. The damned bastard was always rendering him speechless.


	5. Chapter 5

The estate Varric had set aside for Aeric was a tall building at the edge of Hightown. The surrounding streets were not too busy, pedestrians choosing to walk along the main thoroughfares instead of the smaller residential paths. When Aeric and Dorian entered, there was a long, dark foyer leading to the main hall. Crates lined the walls - deliveries from the Inquisition of all the things Aeric had sent ahead.

Two sets of staircases branched off to either side, leading to a second floor landing. There were many doors on each floor, and Dorian wasted no time in poking his head inside each one.

"A bit dreary," Dorian observed, wiping off a bit of dust from a bannister with one finger. "You'll need to hire someone to spruce it up a bit for you."

"Varric said he knew some people who could unpack and clean it for me," Aeric replied. He climbed up to the landing to get a better look over the house. "What am I going to do with all this space?"

Dorian snorted. "Space? This is hardly what one would call an estate. Ask Varric where the rest of it is."

Aeric smiled. "It's large enough,  _ma'nehn_. Besides, Varric said it's nearly as large as Hawke's, and her family's been well-established in the Free Marches for generations."

"Should be larger than hers, in my opinion," Dorian scoffed. " _She_  didn't save the world."

Aeric shrugged. "She saved Kirkwall from a qunari invasion."

"You did the same for Halamshiral a month ago!  _And_  you were nearly dying while you did it!" Dorian climbed the stairs to join Aeric, catching him around the waist. "I might also add that she and her friends started the Mage-Templar War, which  _you_  had to stop."

"Her involvement is debatable," Aeric replied with a chuckle.

"Come now,  _amatus_ , I'm arguing for your benefit here. Do cooperate." Dorian kissed him on the bridge of his nose before pulling Aeric with him to a set of double doors behind them. "Now, let's see what awaits us in the master bedroom, hm?"

Aeric followed as Dorian swept open the doors, revealing a large room with a fireplace and a four-poster bed. With a wave of his hand, Dorian lit all the sconces in the room, casting a soft glow about the walls. He sat himself down at the foot of the bed, bouncing a little as if testing it. "It's not bad, actually," he said, sounding a little impressed.

"That's a grand compliment coming from you," Aeric said with a smile.

"It's difficult having standards." Dorian beckoned to him with one hand. "But you've had a long trip, and no time to rest, not with me manhandling you in the streets. Why don't you let me pamper you a bit?"

Aeric raised an eyebrow curiously and stepped closer. "I like the sound of that. What did you have in mind?"

"Here, take your shirt off and lie down," Dorian said, shifting aside to make more room for Aeric. "Let's see if I can't work out some knots from those shoulders of yours." He gestured to Aeric's shirt. "Do you need help with the clasps?"

Aeric shook his head and reached for his collar. He hesitated.

It was different in the alleyway. Caught up in the moment, mostly clothed, Aeric didn't have to think about his arm. Now, however…

Dorian must have noticed his reluctance. He touched Aeric's right shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

Shaking his head again, Aeric began unclasping his shirt.

"You've suddenly tensed tighter than a Chantry sister who'd wandered into the Blooming Rose on accident," Dorian said with a worried tone, despite the joke. "You can tell me anything. You know that."

Aeric shrugged off the shirt, carefully pulling the sleeve off his prosthetic. "I think it's ugly," he said in so low a whisper he wasn't sure Dorian would hear him.

Dorian frowned. "The new arm? It lacks finesse, perhaps, but I'm certain Dagna can add some flair in future iterations."

Aeric sighed. Wordlessly, he undid the buckles to the prosthetic and lifted the harness over his head. With another moment of hesitation, he pulled his left arm out of the leather sleeve. He touched the limb with his hand in an unconscious gesture, as if to cover it.

Dorian's face fell at once. "Oh,  _amatus_ …"

"The skin's stretched at the end," Aeric said, hating the feel of it under his fingertips. He looked down at the cut end critically. "And there are all these strange scars from the Anchor climbing up from it." He traced the branching lines arcing like lightning over his skin. "I hate it."

Dorian paused before answering. "You've never felt ashamed of your scars before."

"This is a little more than just a scar, Dorian," Aeric replied with a bitter laugh.

The mage considered him with that soft look Aeric so loved, the one that had begun to calm him already. Holding his hand out, Dorian motioned for Aeric to sit beside him to his right. "May I?" he asked.

Aeric sat and, not quite understanding, lifted his residual limb.

Dorian's hands were warm and gentle against Aeric's scarred skin. Aeric swallowed to see him hold his arm with such love and respect. "There are a great many things I don't tell you nearly as often as I should," Dorian began. A sad smile graced his lips as he looked down upon the limb. "And I don't think I've expressed to you in so many words how proud of you I am. Despite all the great sacrifices you have been forced to make, you have survived and thrived when others would surely have perished." The smile faded, but he stroked Aeric's arm with a loving caress. "It isn't fair to you that this was the result of all you've suffered, after saving the world several times over now. But you carry it well." He bent, kissing the end of the limb, his mustache making the sensitive nerves there tingle. "I won't tell you what to feel about your arm,  _amatus_. " He pressed another kiss, higher, upon the bicep. "But for what it's worth, I don't think it's ugly." A final kiss, lingering on Aeric's shoulder. "Far from it."

Aeric released a shuddering breath and threw his arm around Dorian in a fierce embrace. "I've missed you so much," he sighed, his cheeks wet with tears he could not remember shedding.

With a kiss on the top of Aeric's head, Dorian's arms tightened around him and held him even closer. "You have me now. And while we're together, you had best expect me to spoil you terribly."

Aeric gave a little laugh. Dorian made everything better. "I'll hold you to that."

"Good," Dorian said, and though Aeric couldn't see it, he could hear the smile in his voice. "You deserve no less."

ooo

Despite Varric's protests that Aeric and Dorian had to stay in Kirkwall long enough for a tour and no less than three games of Diamondback with his friends, the two of them left the city the following morning after a quick breakfast with Sera and Dagna. Though Aeric was in no hurry to return to his clan, he and Dorian had somehow silently agreed that they were too eager to embark on another journey together to wait any longer.

They headed north through the Vimmark Mountain Pass into the fields and forests close to the old Dalish campsite where Aeric was born. He showed the camp to Dorian, the site abandoned but still holding statues of the Creators and broken down halla fences. Evergreen trees surrounded the camp, making the air smell of pine and spruce and fir.

Dorian looked around the camp curiously, stopping to stare up at a statue of Elgar'nan. "I wonder if that's why you smell of evergreen all the time. This place has the same scent in the air."

Aeric chuckled. "It's likely just the soap I use,  _ma'nehn_."

"Well, take the romance out of it, why don't you."

Letting Dorian explore on his own, Aeric wandered to the edge of the campsite. Hidden beside a pile of rocks was the statue of the Dread Wolf, always standing guard at the outskirts of Dalish camps. Aeric frowned at it for a while before kicking it over onto its face. Childish and spiteful, perhaps, but he felt better afterwards. The Dread Wolf would find no honor or dignity in Aeric's birthplace.

Dorian returned to Aeric's side and glanced down at the overturned statue. "That's a good look for him."

"I thought so." Aeric turned to Dorian. "What did you think of the place?"

"I admit, I still have a hard time imagining a community spending all their lives in the woods," Dorian replied, gesturing to the forest around them. "But being here makes me wish I had known you as a child. I'd like to have known what you were like."

"Not too different from how I am now. Only smaller."

"You think you're clever," Dorian said with a grin. He paused, taking another look around. "You know, sometimes I forget you're a Marcher. We met in Ferelden and spent much of our time together there, so I always imagine you as coming from there as well."

"Pai once said I had 'Fereldan-ish sensibilities but an Antivan love of food'," Aeric said with a smile.

"Astute woman, your sister."

"That she was." With one last look around, Aeric linked his hand with one of Dorian's and headed back to their mounts. "Let's head out. We have a few hours' travel left before we get to where I want to stop for the night."

They rode out from the campsite, Aeric on Quiet and Dorian on a horse they bought at Kirkwall. Though Wycome was to the northeast, Aeric led Dorian in a northwesterly direction, following along the slope of the mountains.

"Where are we going?" Dorian asked after they had been traveling for about an hour. "Not that I mind the detour, but isn't Wycome that way?"

"There was a lake my parents would take us to as children," Aeric replied. "I wanted to see if it was the same as I remember." Most of the memories were fuzzy now, after over two decades, but moments stuck out in his mind. Fishing with his father in the early morning hours, and the smell of grilling their catch on sticks over the fire. Splashing in the water with Pai and teaching her to swim. Sitting around a campfire as a family while his mother played the lute.

As he led Dorian towards the lake, Aeric told him of what he remembered. "I don't know why those memories feel more significant than other ones," Aeric said, smiling. "We fished and swam and played music together in many other places, at many other times. Strange how a change in scenery can make the experience feel different, isn't it?"

Dorian shrugged. "I can't say I know exactly what you mean, given that my family's idea of a vacation was dragging me to our summer home in Val Royeaux and all of us ignoring one another the entire time." He paused and cocked his head to one side, finally returning the smile as he regarded Aeric. "But you and I have done our fair share of traveling together before, and this little trip of ours already feels different. I expect to be cherishing these memories in a few months' time."

"I expect I will too." Aeric's smile grew as they crested over a hill. "Ah! We're here."

From the hill, a wide valley spread below them, lit by golden rays of sunlight. The sun was setting over the lake in a display of radiant color, clouds painted in pinks and oranges, reflected in the mirror-like water. Fields of green grass over rolling hills stretched for acres before reaching a lush wood at the base of the Vimmark Mountains.

"Maker's breath," Dorian breathed. "I can see why you remember this place so fondly. It's majestic."

Aeric grinned to see Dorian so impressed. He knew he would like it there. "Let's set up camp near the water."

"A lakeshore view when we sleep? Now  _you're_  spoiling  _me_."

They descended the hill and dismounted several yards from the shore. Aeric went to work right away, gathering firewood and stones for the campfire. "Why don't you hunt some dinner for us?"

"Certainly," Dorian replied, hefting his staff. He paused, hesitating. "You're still having trouble with the archery?"

Aeric scowled down at his prosthetic. There was an attachment so he could strap a bow to the arm, but every attempt at shooting thus far had resulted in the arrow flying off course. Sera had assured him it wasn't so bad, but Aeric had taken pride in his marksmanship. It felt like starting over from scratch. "Shooting my bow doesn't feel like it should," he grumbled. "The aiming is terrible, and it takes forever to adjust the wrist to try to correct it. I thought I'd wait until we got to Wycome. My mother might have an idea of how to fix my aim."

"You're too hard on yourself,  _amatus_ ," Dorian said, drawing close enough to kiss him on the cheek. "All you need is practice. Have some patience with yourself. I know you'll get it eventually."

" _You're_  one to talk about patience," Aeric replied.

"It's not one of my many virtues, no," Dorian agreed. "But all the more reason to listen to me, if I of all people recognize its necessity."

Reluctantly, Aeric felt himself smile, though it probably didn't show on his face. "Go hunting already,  _ma'nehn_. We'll be eating at midnight at this rate."

Dorian smiled as he turned toward the nearby forest. "Two slightly frozen woodland creatures, coming right up."

Aeric watched Dorian run off, allowing himself a moment to feel wistful that he wasn't going along. He was a hunter. It was what he should be doing. But as with far too many things Aeric had once taken for granted about himself, this was no longer the case.

As he readied the camp, he tried not to think too hard about it. During his time with the Inquisition, Aeric had visited countless soldiers who had been wounded in battle under his leadership. Recovery was long and difficult for all of them, and Aeric saw how easy it was to fall into a cycle of self-pity. And how difficult it was to get out. Aeric had felt the melancholy come over him, kept at bay for a few days at a time. Dorian was with him now, and that made it easier to stave it off. But what would happen when Dorian eventually left? There were times - even when Dorian was close - when his thoughts turned sour and despairing. What more when his joy was far from his side?

With a sigh, Aeric again tried to push the thought out of his mind as he struggled with the tent. Dagna had promised that the next set of runes would be more responsive to him and his un-magical nature, but in the meantime, the hand refused to close firmly enough around the things he wanted to grab. After half an hour, Aeric gave up on the task and waited for Dorian.

The mage returned a few minutes later with two fat rabbits hanging from the end of his staff. "That forest is teeming with animals,  _amatus_ ," Dorian proclaimed by way of greeting. "You could sneeze and no less than a dozen furry beasts would come scurrying out of hiding." He handed Aeric the rabbits and, with a glance at the fallen-over tent, gave him a sympathetic look. "Had some trouble?"

Aeric nodded. "Sorry."

"Stop that." Dorian waved a hand dismissively then set to work on the tent. "I'll have you know when I first came south, I wasn't able to erect the tent I'd brought with me at all, not in the entire time I traveled through Nevarra, Orlais, or Ferelden. Weeks of travel and two perfectly functional hands, and I still slept out under the stars every night. I kept trying, mind you, but I couldn't get the blasted thing to stay up!" As he draped the canvas over the tent pole, he grinned at Aeric. "And I hope you're proud of me, because there were at least three dirty jokes I could have made about pitching tents and I've refrained from all of them."

Aeric laughed. "Your restraint is admirable,  _ma'nehn_."

"I thought you might think so."

They worked in comfortable silence for a while, until the food was cooked and the tent was standing. Feeling better after cooking went well, Aeric's mood had improved by the time they sat down to eat. As they ate, Dorian recounted more misadventures during his journey to the south, and Aeric listened happily, thinking that he hadn't laughed so hard in a very long time.

Later, as they lay in their bedrolls beside one another, Dorian's head resting on Aeric's left shoulder, the mage turned to Aeric with a curious look. " _Amatus_? Is there a reason we came here?" He paused, his mouth twisting as he considered his words. "That is, we went well out of our way to come to this place. It seemed important to you that we come here in particular. Was it merely nostalgia? Or was there something else?"

Aeric shifted onto his side so he could hold Dorian closer. "Part of it was nostalgia."

"And the other part?"

"I just really wanted to show you this lake, at least once." Aeric paused, brushing strands of Dorian's hair behind his ear. "I loved it here. And back when I started to think that I wanted a future with you, this is where I had always dreamed of us settling one day."

A slow smile spread across Dorian's face. "What, like a little cottage with a garden and a white fence?"

"Something like that," Aeric replied with a chuckle. "I was thinking a farm house with a big library, a dock at the lake for fishing… maybe a shared workshop for my crafts and your magical research."

Dorian lifted himself up onto one elbow, his eyebrows raised. "You've given this some serious thought, haven't you?"

Aeric shrugged. "It's little more than a daydream. I've just had a lot of time to develop it, that's all."

"How long?" Dorian demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"Since…" Aeric paused, considering in his head. "Since before Adamant? It's hard to remember."

"Before Adamant!" Dorian's eyes widened as instantly as they had narrowed a second earlier. "Why, that was ages ago!"

"About as long as I've loved you,  _ma'nehn_."

Dorian gave that soft smile that always made Aeric's heart warm. "And you've been doing that for a long time now, haven't you."

"You're the most wonderful person," Aeric said simply, because it was fact. "How could I not?"

Dorian kissed him. Fiercely, urgently. The way he did when the words  _I love you_  were somehow too much for him to say. Aeric didn't mind. He could feel the words, even if he couldn't hear them.

When their kiss broke, Dorian rested his chin on his hands upon Aeric's chest, their faces still close. "I like your dream very much. Perhaps we can still have that someday."

"Perhaps," Aeric agreed.

He tried not to think about the fact that neither of them knew when that 'someday' would be.

Instead, they held each other through the night, moonlight rippling across the pristine lake outside. And as Aeric fell into a comfortable, blissful sleep, he thought that it was all right if they were together in that place he had dreamt of, if only for a night.


	6. Chapter 6

"So, let's go over this one more time."

"All right."

"Your mother's name is Misuna, and your father is… Hmm, don't tell me… Falon. Do I have that right?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Excellent. And the Keeper, her name is Deshanna and she's your aunt. Your father's sister?"

"Yes. But never call her 'Deshanna'. Only 'Keeper'."

"Noted. And… she hates you?"

"Also correct."

"Why is that, exactly?"

"…It's a long story that I'd rather not get into right now."

"Fair enough. And, let's see… her First is your former lover. 'Droolin', was it? I can only imagine he was so named due to an unfortunate glandular issue, making him into a frothing mess all the time… Now, why would that make you laugh,  _amatus_? I'm sure that excessive salivating is a terrible burden for the poor man."

"It's 'Dhrulen',  _ma'nehn_. 'Dhrulen'. You aspirate the  _H_  a little after the  _D_  and… You don't care at all, do you."

"Not even a little."

Aeric and Dorian were closing in on Wycome, with only a few miles left to go. In fact, they could see the town nestled in the hills ahead, with Dalish tents and  _aravels_  lining the eastern side closest to the forest. It looked strange, so close to the buildings and roads, in view of any passersby. That Clan Lavellan was still here at Wycome after over two years was baffling to Aeric; he thought they would have moved on by now. When he was with the clan, they had moved about twice a year.

For the past day and a half, Aeric felt anxiety clawing at his insides. His parents had written to him often these past three years with the Inquisition, asking how he was doing, saying they missed him. But he would be seeing them in person soon. And he didn't have Paikea with him.

He was used to Aunt Deshanna hating him. He wasn't sure what he'd do if Ma and Da did too.

Aeric could tell Dorian was nervous as well. His jokes were too often, his smiles too wide, his hands too tight on the reins. Dorian had been drilling himself on names and titles of people within the camp, and often-used phrases in elvhen.

" _An'daran atish'an_  is the formal greeting, yes?" Dorian asked suddenly. "Should I use it, or would I sully it with my Tevinter human mouth?"

Aeric smiled, his nerves abating somewhat with each of Dorian's quips. "Just greet them however you feel comfortable. I only told you so you'd know what they were saying. But if you want to use it, I doubt anyone would be offended." At Dorian's raised eyebrow, Aeric amended, "Well, any more offended than they were going to be by your mere presence."

"Do you think they'll even let me into the camp?"

"Probably. If Aunt Deshanna tries to turn you away, it will be more to get to me than anything against you." Aeric sighed. He was not looking forward to dealing with the Keeper's drama again. "They know we're both coming, at any rate. And I'm not staying in camp if you're not." He tried to think of anything else Dorian should know before going in. With his anxiety was the ever-present feeling he was forgetting something important. "Oh, and just so you're aware, my aunt will probably insist on calling me 'Mithrahn'."

"Your middle name?" Dorian frowned. "Why?"

"Because 'Aeric' is a dwarven name and 'Mithrahn' is elvhen," Aeric grumbled. "Therefore it's better, in her eyes. And also because she knows it bothers me."

Dorian's lips drew themselves into a line, but he said nothing. Aeric would have been amused if his stomach wasn't being assaulted by butterfly wings from the inside. They switched roles when they were nervous: Aeric got more talkative, and Dorian less so.

They were still a mile away from town, skirting around a pair of watchtowers, when Aeric heard his name being called. "Aeric! Aeric! Over here!"

Aeric looked up and found his mother waving at him from one of the towers. He blinked up at her and gave an uncertain wave in return. She seemed older than when he had left a few years ago. Her dark brown hair had more gray than he remembered, the corners of her eyes more lined and tight.

Aeric supposed he must look older himself. He certainly felt it.

"Your father's here too!" Ma shouted, pointing vaguely over her shoulder. "We'll be right down!"

Ma went to the ladder at the rear of the tower and slid down it, her leg coverings keeping her feet from harm. As she ran toward Aeric and Dorian, Da had reached the ladder, but was descending one rung at a time.

With a nod to Dorian, Aeric dismounted from Quiet just in time for Ma to catch him in an embrace. " _Da'len!_  My sweet boy, how are you? We've missed you!"

"I'm fine." Aeric gave a tentative smile. "You missed me?" he asked, because he wasn't certain.

Ma's eyes narrowed at him a moment and she ruffled his hair. "Don't be silly! Of course we have! Your father and I volunteered for watch duty the past two days just so we could see you as soon as you arrived. Isn't that right,  _ma'vhenan_?"

Da had just reached the bottom of the ladder, smiling as his eyes met Aeric's. "That's right." Da had always seemed older than Ma, though they were close in age. But now that he was closer, Aeric could see his hair was predominantly white now, when once there was more pepper than salt.

"We knew you weren't scheduled to arrive before today," his mother was saying, "but we thought we might keep an eye out… anyway…" As her hands squeezed Aeric's arms, the smile fell from her face in an instant and her voice trailed off. Her blue eyes filled with tears. "Oh… oh,  _da'len_ … With the fake arm, I didn't even notice at first. It's really gone, isn't it?"

Aeric nodded.

"May I see?"

"There's not much to see now," Aeric said with a little shrug. "It's in the prosthetic after all."

As Da stepped closer, he gave a low whistle of appreciation, bending to take a look at the prosthetic. "That's some fine craftsmanship there, Aeric. What is it made of? Silverite?"

Ma elbowed him in the ribs. "Falon! Your son lost his arm, and the only thing you have to say is to ask what the fake one's made out of?"

"It's nice, though." Da gave a sad smile to Aeric and clapped him on the shoulder before pulling him into a light hug. "Good to see you, Aeric. We've been thinking of you a great deal. You and dearest Paikea both, Creators rest her soul."

Aeric nodded, releasing a long breath.  _They're not angry._ Even still, the unease didn't leave him entirely. _Why aren't they angry?_

Taking a step aside, Aeric gestured to Dorian, who had been patiently waiting behind him. "Ma, Da, I'd like to introduce you to Dorian.  _Ma'nehn_ , these are my parents."

Dorian walked forward smoothly, offering his hand to Aeric's parents. "Dorian Pavus. It is an absolute pleasure to finally meet both of you, Madam and Master Lavellan."

Giving a light laugh, Ma bypassed Dorian's hand and got on her toes for a light hug. "You can call us Misuna and Falon, dear. And yes, it is so good to meet you at last. After all Aeric has told us about you, it's good to put a face to all the gushing he does."

Dorian bowed his head in a stately motion, but Aeric noticed that his ears had gone red. "All an exaggeration, I assure you."

"I don't know about that," Ma said, making room for Da to greet Dorian.

Da extended a hand. "I'll, uh… just have that handshake," he said with a chuckle. "A pleasure meeting you, Dorian."

"Likewise," Dorian replied. He glanced around. "I'm looking forward to seeing the town and your camp. From what Aeric tells me, this collaboration between a Dalish clan and a human settlement is unprecedented."

"It's not as if we were given much choice," Da said brusquely but not without a smile. "It was either that or leave the city elves defenseless."

"Your Inquisition forces surely saved us,  _da'len_ ," Aeric's mother said, beckoning for them to follow her towards the town. "If they hadn't been here, the nobles and distant Marchers would have killed our entire clan. I'm certain of it. The Keeper is most grateful."

Aeric snorted. "I doubt that."

"She is!" Ma looked up at him, her brow furrowed in a look of disapproval. "I know you and your aunt have had your differences in the past, but I think you'll find she's changed. Ever since she was appointed to the Wycome Council, she has been far more accepting of humans and people with different points of view."

"It's never been my point of view that she's had a problem with, _Mamae_." Aeric paused. "Well, not  _only_  my point of view."

"Give her a chance, son," Da said. "For my sake?"

Aeric didn't answer, instead rolling his eyes and catching Dorian's gaze. Dorian's answering look was sympathetic, and once more settled Aeric's unease.

They followed Aeric's parents into Wycome, Ma pointing at details of the city or places where various Marchers had attacked. As they approached the Dalish area of Wycome, Aeric could see that there were construction sites in between the  _aravels_  and tents. Some were nearly complete - small homes made of oak and cedar, many with intertwining trees acting as support beams for the structure. The branches extended to the top of the building, intertwining again to form a thatch-like roof. Though Aeric could hardly claim to be a traditionalist, he felt almost offended by the idea that his clan was putting down roots here. The Dalish were nomads, and had been for centuries. Another thought came at the heels of the last.  _Hypocrite_ , he admonished himself.  _You want to settle down as well._

"These houses are beautiful," Dorian said as they walked by several that were nearly finished. "Is this your work, Falon?"

Da nodded. "They're my design, yes. My apprentices and I have been working on many of the homes, but it's too much work for so few craftspeople. We've been teaching those who want homes how to do at least some of the building themselves, though we take care of the more complicated tasks." He pointed to the intertwining trees. "That had to be done with magic. Aeric's friend Dhrulen has done the majority of it, seeing as how none of us craftspeople can do magic."

"Dhrulen's been excited to see you," Ma told Aeric as they turned toward the center of the Dalish district.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aeric saw Dorian scowl. "It will be good to see him again," Aeric replied.

"Dhrulen was one of Aeric's first real friends," Ma said as an aside to Dorian, apparently not noticing how he had soured. She turned back to Aeric. "He's been complaining that you never write to him. He asks about you often, especially when he sees a raven has arrived for us."

"Bit of a nuisance, if you ask me," Da muttered. "I just want to read my letters in peace."

"Why haven't you written to him,  _da'len_?" Ma asked. "The two of you are still friends, aren't you?"

Aeric shrugged. "Yes, I still consider him a friend." With all that had been going on with the Inquisition, he hadn't actually given much thought to Dhrulen. They had remained close friends up until he left for the Conclave with Pai, but afterwards, Aeric had never felt the need to tell him anything.

"Well, it will be good for you to have a friend here. After all you've been through, you should relax and enjoy yourself."

"I enjoyed myself with the Inquisition." Aeric felt himself following Dorian's lead, the old familiar scowl settling on his face. "And I had many friends there."

"I didn't say you didn't, dear," his mother said, smiling up at him, perhaps too used to his scowl. "Only that it'd be nice for you to have friends here."

Aeric cast another look at Dorian, wondering if he could signal the mage to somehow whisk him away from here already.

On his other side, his father only chuckled.

"Ah!" Ma exclaimed, pointing. "There they are."

Aunt Deshanna stood with Dhrulen in front of a large, ornately carved  _aravel_ , talking in what looked to be a casual conversation. As they approached, their conversation stopped, and Deshanna took on a stately composure, drawing herself up with her head held high, one hand holding her staff at her side. Dhrulen's face broke into a large grin, narrow golden eyes glinting with excitement when he spotted Aeric.

"Look who we found, Deshanna!" Ma announced happily as they reached the two mages. "Our Aeric has returned!"

The Keeper inclined her head towards Aeric and Dorian in turn, a short and formal nod by way of greeting. Dorian gave a splendid bow, but Aeric remained with his back straight. Instead, he nodded his head to her in return. He never bowed to her.

" _Aneth ara, da'len_ ," Deshanna said, her thin lips unsmiling. "We welcome you back to the clan with open arms. Before anything else, I wanted to extend our gratitude for the aid you sent to us two years ago. Our need was great under the treachery of the former Duke of Wycome, and if it were not for the timely arrival of your forces, we surely would have perished."

Aeric gave a nod once more. "I would not have abandoned my kin in their time of need."

Deshanna raised an eyebrow. "Not this time, at least." At a hard look from Aeric's mother, Deshanna cleared her throat and regarded Dorian. "And this must be the Tevinter human you mentioned in your letter.  _An'daran atish'an_ , Magister Pavus. I am Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel."

Dorian smiled, in that polite way Aeric usually saw him smile to other nobles. "A pleasure to meet you, Madam Keeper. I appreciate your hospitality and generosity in allowing me to visit here."

"All are welcome in Wycome," the Keeper said. Her tone was polite, but her voice was tight, as if she said the words with reluctance. "I warn you that many of the Dalish will be wary of you. Tevinters have not been kind to our people, to say the least." She glanced at Aeric, then back at Dorian. "In fact, I am surprised you enjoy such a close relationship with Mithrahn here. Tevinters caused him much grief in the past."

Aeric glared at her. "My name is Aeric."

"One of your names is, yes." She turned back to Dorian, waiting for an answer.

Dorian maintained his polite smile, but he squared his shoulders stiffly. "If you're speaking of the terrible run-in Aeric and his sister had with the slavers, then you needn't worry. He and I have spoken about it at length. Those poor excuses for men met the end that they deserved."

The Keeper nodded, as if she expected no other answer. "I am relieved to hear you think so, Magister Pavus." She gestured to Dhrulen. "If I may, I would like to introduce my First, Dhrulen Briathos."

Dhrulen stepped to Dorian. The two men regarded one another for a moment before shaking each other's hands with tight grips. Aeric frowned. Though both Dorian and Dhrulen were smiling, they stared each other down as if issuing a challenge.

"We'll leave you three to get acquainted," Deshanna said. "I have a council meeting to attend, and other important matters to see to. Dhrulen, please show them to where they'll be staying."

Dhrulen nodded, releasing Dorian's hand at last.

"Come find us later, Aeric," Ma said, taking the reins from both him and Dorian. "We'll bring your mounts to the halla pen for now." With a kiss on the cheek from Ma and a pat on the shoulder from Da, the three left Aeric with Dorian and Dhrulen, who were still looking at each other in appraisal.

"So good to meet you," Dhrulen said in a tone that was too polite, too ingratiating. "Dorian, wasn't it? I apologize, I'm afraid I've heard very little about you. Aeric's terrible about writing."

"Oh, that's so odd," Dorian replied, and Aeric nearly laughed at the amount of smarm in his voice. "While I've been in Tevinter, Aeric's written to  _me_  about three times a week."

Dhrulen's dark brown skin turned a shade redder. "I'm sure he's had to. From what little I hear, you're in Tevinter all the time." He paused, casting a sympathetic look at Aeric. "Must be difficult."

Dorian drew himself up, mustache bristling, but all of Dhrulen's attention was on Aeric now.

Aeric gave a withering sigh. "Very mature. The both of you."

Dhrulen chuckled and gave Aeric a hug. "It's great to see you, Aeric. But really, it would have been nice to hear from you once in a while."

"I've been busy," Aeric replied. "Fighting demons and qunari doesn't leave a lot of time for leisure."

"I suppose it doesn't." Dhrulen frowned down at Aeric's prosthetic hand then picked it up without warning. "Oh,  _assan_ , you  _did_  lose your arm… That's terrible! I was hoping it was just an exaggeration."

"Who would exaggerate about a thing like that?" Aeric pulled his hand away. "And I told you a long time ago not to call me that. Why does no one here call me by my actual name?"

"No need to get defensive," Dhrulen said, looking surprised. "It's only an old habit."

Dorian came up from behind Aeric and linked hands with him. "One you seem in no hurry to discard," Dorian said in a tight voice. "Especially considering you haven't even seen Aeric in over three years."

Dhrulen held a hand up. "It was merely a slip of the tongue. I meant nothing by it." He beckoned them towards the town. "Come. I will show you to the inn."

"The inn?" Aeric repeated, frowning. "I thought we'd be with the clan."

Dhrulen stopped short, looking confused. "But you have Dorian with you."

Aeric's hand tightened around Dorian's. "Is that a problem?"

"No," Dhrulen replied slowly. "It's just that the Keeper assumed he'd be more comfortable staying indoors."

"She assumed wrong."

Dorian cleared his throat. "Dorian would be more comfortable wherever Aeric would normally be," he said loudly, his mustache bristling again. "That is, if we insist on speaking of Dorian as if Dorian were not standing right here. Otherwise, you might try asking Dorian yourself."

Aeric couldn't help but laugh, and he smiled up at Dorian, who seemed to relax as their eyes met.

To Aeric's surprise, Dhrulen gave an amused smile as well. "My apologies, Dorian," he said with a bow. "In truth, many of us were nervous about your arrival, and didn't know what to expect. I fear we're making a poor first impression upon you."

"First impressions are like that sometimes." Dorian waved vaguely towards the rest of the Dalish camp. "Lead on, then."

Dhrulen took them between the  _aravels_  along small paths of packed earth that looked to be made from constant walking rather than any conscious effort. Elves meandered past them or stood around campfires, chatting or building or cooking. Aeric recognized most of their faces, but as they looked back at him, he felt like a stranger in their eyes. They stared or pointed as he passed, whispering to each other as if he couldn't see them do so. There were some who waved or smiled politely upon catching his eye, and a scant few who greeted him by name. But even then, it was as if they were greeting an acquaintance, not someone who lived and grew up and hunted alongside them for nearly three decades.

Aeric surprised himself with how bothered he was by it.

His clansfolk also stared at Dorian, though that was to be expected. Aeric knew that Dorian hated the negative attention, as he had at Skyhold, but the mage walked through the Dalish camp as if he didn't notice. He asked Aeric about the designs of the  _aravels_ , marveled at their carvings and their size. Aeric smiled, taking comfort in Dorian's easy air of confidence. This could be home for a while, with his joy beside him.

But what about when Dorian left?

Dhrulen brought them through the middle of the camp, at the edge where the settlement met the forest. When they stopped, they had arrived at a large area, empty except for a ring of stones around a fire pit. Aeric recognized his parents'  _aravel_  not far from them.

"I apologize again that it wasn't set up for your arrival," Dhrulen said as they looked around the empty area. "Your parents set aside this place for you, Aeric, but we should have had a tent ready."

"We have our own tent," Dorian offered. "It would be simple enough to set it up."

Dhrulen shook his head. "No, that's no good. Let me get a proper tent from Aeric's parents. They'd never let me hear the end of it otherwise." He turned and headed towards the Lavellan  _aravel_.

As soon as Dhrulen was away, Dorian looked at Aeric with a curious expression. "So, how is this all going so far, in your opinion? Not as bad as when you met my father, surely."

Aeric tried to smile, but his heart wasn't in it. "Not as bad as that, no."

"Your parents are actually pleasant!" Dorian said, sounding genuinely astonished. "What a novelty! …The Keeper is decidedly less so, but you warned me as such." When Aeric didn't answer, Dorian drew close, putting a hand on his arm. "You seem irritated. Are you?"

Considering the question a moment, Aeric finally nodded. "Yes, I guess so. It just feels so strange being here. I wanted it to feel like coming home, but instead I feel… tired."

Dorian gave a sympathetic smile of understanding and pulled him into an embrace. Aeric took a deep breath, taking in Dorian's scent of vanilla and subtle musk. He let it fill him. Though Dorian was right there, their separation had been so frequent and recent that Aeric felt the strange sensation of missing him before he was even gone.

When Dhrulen returned, Dorian jerked as if caught in something forbidden and moved to pull away. Aeric held him firmly for just a moment, to let him know it was all right to stay. Dorian relaxed and held him fast at his side, his chin set with defiance.

Dhrulen cleared his throat awkwardly and presented the rolled up tent. "I could use some help with this, Dorian." He pursed his lips as he considered Aeric. "Aer, are you… able to help?"

Aeric scowled. "Of course I can help."  _I just can't do it on my own yet,_  he thought sourly.

"Oh, all right. I didn't know."

With the three of them working together, the tent was set up after the better part of an hour. Aeric had missed the large tents the Dalish used. They were tall enough for even Dorian to walk underneath without ducking, and wide enough for bedding and a small living area. Dhrulen had filled the inside with the usual furnishings: a large brazier, cushions for sitting, a low table, and a thick, mattress-like bedroll.

When they were done, Dhrulen looked at their handiwork and grinned. "There! Fit for a former Inquisitor and a magister, wouldn't you say?"

Aeric smiled. "I agree. Thank you, Dhru."

Dhrulen squeezed his shoulder. "Only the best for you." Having earned a hard look from Dorian, he released Aeric. "I'll leave you both to get settled. I was supposed to help with the Aelwyn house a quarter of an hour ago, and your father hates starting late." Without waiting for an answer, Dhrulen gave a short bow and hurried into the camp.

Dorian huffed as he left. "Nice enough fellow but he's too familiar with you."

"A little," Aeric agreed, stepping into the tent and setting down his knapsack. "He's always been like that, though."

Dorian followed him in. "What was that he called you earlier? An endearment of some sort?"

Aeric wrinkled his nose with annoyance. "Ugh, yes. I told him to stop calling me that when I broke things off with him five years ago. I don't know if he forgot or if he's just being stubborn."

"Yes, but what does it mean?"

"…You won't like it."

"That much is guaranteed."

" _Assan_ ," Aeric said with a sigh. "The word means 'arrow'."

Dorian raised his eyebrows. "That's not so bad."

Aeric shook his head. "It's short for  _vhenan assan_. 'Heart's Arrow'."

The scowl on Dorian's face was immediate. "I think I might vomit a little."

"It  _is_  pretty bad, yes."

Dorian knelt to start unpacking. When he spoke, he didn't look up to meet Aeric's eyes. "Did you have an endearment for him?"

"No, I've only ever called him Dhrulen or Dhru." When Dorian only nodded in reply, still unpacking, stone-faced, Aeric added, "I've never called him ' _ma'nehn_ '. That has always been yours alone."

Dorian gave a little smile. "Glad to hear it." The smile faded however as he pursed his lips. He wanted to say something.

"What is it, Dorian?" Aeric crouched down beside him, settling onto a cushion.

Dorian finally looked in Aeric's eyes, his face difficult to read. "Did you love him?" Before Aeric could answer, he suddenly chuckled, though Aeric could hear no mirth in it. "It's all right if you did. I hardly expect for me to be your first love."

Aeric considered the question for a moment. "Yes, I did love Dhrulen," he answered finally. The soft smile on Dorian's face faltered. "It was different than how I love you, however. It's why I broke things off with him."

Dorian raised a curious eyebrow. "Different how?"

"I loved him like a person loves the first person who thinks them worthwhile," Aeric replied. He reached out to hold Dorian's hand, wishing he could hold both. "My family loved me, of course, but I had no friends, and my previous relationships didn't last long. Most people I've met think I'm, well, boring."

"That's preposterous," Dorian said, bringing his free hand up to brush stray hairs away from his face. "You're the most fascinating person I know."

Aeric smiled sadly. "I've met few people who agree, at least before the Inquisition." He shrugged. "I was used to it for a long time, but then there was Dhrulen, and he thought I was interesting too. He was the first friend I made on my own. And I loved him because of it." Noticing the pinch at the corners of his lover's eyes, he covered Dorian's free hand with his metal one. He held their hands against his cheek, even though he couldn't feel Dorian's hand beneath his. "I won't say I wasn't in love with him. I think I was. But it wasn't the way I wanted to love." He squeezed Dorian's hand, stroking it with his thumb, and smiled. " _This_  is how I want to love."

A slow smile spread across Dorian's face in return. "Strange how you can woo me while telling me you loved another man."

Aeric chuckled. "Well, I don't love him anymore. All my love is yours now. I don't want anyone else."

Dorian's fingertips traced Aeric's  _vallaslin_. "I know the feeling."

They kissed, Dorian's lips a gentle homecoming. And as they held each other, their lips coming together again and again in their tent on a cool spring afternoon, Aeric thought that he would be content if only he could come home to this every day and always.


End file.
